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IN THE LAND OF FANCY 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



LIBBIE C. BAER 




F. TENNYSON NEELY 



114 Fifth Avenue 
NEW YORK 



96 Queen Street 
LONDON 



THE 'vIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Ctil^to RtCElVET. 

mv. r^ nm 

CO»VPIOHT ENTRY 

CLASS K-^XXci No. 

U- li' (^ "1 o 
oorr'B. ^^^ 



PS 3S-<3 >3 



J 



Copyright, 1902, 

by 

LIBBIE C. BAER, 

in the 

United Sutes 

and 
Great Britain. 

Entered at 
Stationers' Hall, London. 

All Rights Reserved. 



/« ike Land of Fancy. 



^•^ 



TO THE MEMORY 

OF HER SON 

WHOSE AFFECTIONATE SYMPATHY, AND APPRECIA- 
TIVE INTEREST, ARE INSEPARABLY CONNECTED 
WITH MANY OF THESE STANZAS, 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



introduction xiii 

In the Land of Fancy 1 



PAET I. 

SENTIMENTAL POEMS. 

What Is Love? 3 

Fancy Free 4 

Love 5 

My Enemy 6 

It Mignt Have Been (Rondeau) 7 

Essence of Love 8 

Spirit of the Night 10 

Doubt and Love (a Sonnet) 11 

When My Soul Findeth Wings 11 

Ill-timed 13 

Perhaps 14 

Spirit of My Own True Love 15 

The Land of Lost Delight 16 

My King 17 

It Will Not Come Again 18 



vi Contents. 

ri.QE 

The Secret 19 

Too Late 20 

The Eaising of the Ban 21 

Under the Eose 85 

To 26 

Love and Life 27 

Fantasy 28 

Friends 31 

Forbidden Fruit 32 

Adrift 33 

Dead 34 

Love's Star 35 

The Letter 36 



PAET IL 

RECITATIONS. 

The Elocutionist 39 

Our Heroes 40 

Come Sing to Me 41 

Memorial Day 44 

Our Flag 46 

Sacrifice of the Flowers 48 

The Loyalty of Woman 49 

Soldiers That Wear the Blue 51 

The Unrepentant Rebel 53 

The Veteran's Lesson 56 

Memorial Day Thoughts 58 

Kequiescat in Pace 60 



Contents. vii 

PAQE 

The Unconquered Flag 61 

Farewell, Old Flag 63 

Song. Lavena 64 

Fair Ohio's Waters 66 

A Eetrospeet 69 

Chancellorsville, 1863 72 

Soldier's Mother's Lament 74 

Our Noble Dead 75 

Mad Marguerite; or, "Zib," the Mountain 

Guide 75 

Mother Methuselum 87 

What I Envy 89 

True Heroism 91 

When We Find More Time 93 

House for Eent 94 

The Poet's Song 96 

The Trapper's Lament 97 

His Heritage 99 



PART IIL 

children's recitations. 

A Little Girl's Wish 101 

The Woman's Eelief Corps from a Little 

Girl's Standpoint 104 

Memorial Day Eemembrance 106 

Our Heroes Are Eight 108 

ITh'e Broken Vow 109 

Grandpa's Old Chum Ill 



vlii Contents. 

Long Ago 113 

A Tough One 114 

Euth to Her Teacher 116 

When Grandmama Was Young 116 

When Christmas Comes 119 

Children's Day 121 

The Fourth of July 123 

In the Country 123 

Johnnie's Dream 124 

Dilly-Dally 125 

Johnnie's Christmas 126 

The Boaster 128 

Chew and Chaw 129 

Children at Play 130 

Earl's Dreams 131 

The Birds' Convention 133 

A Dilemma 133 

Silver-lined 133 

Little Rose 134 



PART IV. 

IN memoeiam:. 

In Memoriam 137 

Our Boy— Our Hero 138 

My Boys 140 

Dream Ships 143 

A Dream 143 

Extracts from Poems 144 



Contents. ix 
PART V. 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

PAGE 

A Message 147 

To My -Mother 147 

My Father 148 

Summer Idyl 149 

Memory's Flight 149 

Like a Voyager 150 

Christmas Morn 153 

Wrecked 153 

Reconciled 153 

Mnemosyne 154' 

The Poet's Soul 156 

Autumn 157 

Dream of the Would-be Suicide 158 

In Sympathy 160 

Be Not Cast Down 161 

The Garden of Her Heart 163 

A Perfect Day 163 

Alone 164 

Kind Words 165 

Recreant Thoughts 166 

A New Year's Wish 166 

How the Summer Died 167 

Easter Morn. 168 

Fear Not . .". . ' . . .T 169 

The Dreamer's Heart 170 

Sorrow 171 

In Dreams Alone 173 

The Fountain of Youth 175 

One Day 177 



X Contents. 

PAOK . 

The Cousins 178 f 

A Summer's Sacrifice 185 ' 

Mad Lizbeth 186 

Sorrow's Comforter 187 

The Storm 188 

Fate 190 

Life's Battle 190 

In Dreams 191 

Destiny 191 

Mistake Not Your Calling 192 

Why Should We Fear? 193 

Hope 195 

Summer's Showers 195 

The Garden by the Sea 196 

The Midnight Hour 196 

Subdued 197 

The Promise 197 

The Hills 198 

Dreams 199 

Music 199 

Music No. 2 200 

Thought 200 

Young Bride 200 

The Voice of Pen 201 

The Unattainable 202 

Random Thoughts 203 

Mother's Kiss 204 

Night 205 

Spirit of Sadness 205 

The Summer's Days Are Ended 206 

The Old Year 208 

A Thought 209 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



iBy Mesdames Alexander, Botensek, Conkey, Miss 
Amy Baker and Master John Miller Baer. 



Portrait of Libbie C. fBaer ..Frontispiece 



PAGE 



" 'Sadie' Sherman as Mad Marguerite" 75 

'1 Went Fishing, I Caught Two About S-o 

Long" 113 

■'Tlump to the Ground the Snow-birds Fly". 133 

"Our Boy— Our Hero" : 138 

*'Dash of Eain in the Keaper's Eyes" 149 

'^Shadows from the Tree-tops Tall" 154 

''Then Autumn Came" 185 

"Mad Lizbeth" : 186 



INTRODUCTION. 

It is many years since Macaulay uttered his 
false prophecy that the spirit of poetry would be 
crushed by the advent of electricity ; that inspired 
verse, living canvas, sculpture and the other arts, 
would all be succeeded by prosaic and uninter- 
esting materialism. 

In purely imaginative poetry we may be lack- 
ing, but in the midst of our feverish exertion for 
convenience and wealth, there is a responsive chord 
left in the hearts of men which can only be touched 
by the poet's lyre; a chord which under all the 
seemingly hard, rude exteriors of commercialism, 
still vibrates with pathos, with sentiment and with 
tears. 

Kipling appears, astonishes, thrills and delights 
the world with poetry which in originality and in- 
spiration is worthy of the finest traditions of 
Anglo-American literature. He has proved that 
the great race of singers is not yet extinct and 
that men still will list with keenest enjoyment to 
the beauteous music born of the murmuring ca- 
dences of verse. 



xi / ^ Introduction. 

In America it is fashionable to proclaim that 
our great race of poets has no survivors. It is 
indeed true that there seems to be no successors 
to the sweet singers Whittier, Longfellow, Lowell 
and Emerson. But they wrought perhaps accord- 
ing to the particular needs of their age. We have 
a new generation of poets fulfilling our own ideals 
and ministering to our intellectual and moral 
necessities. The roster, while it is many times 
greater than in the golden days of "Thanatopsis," 
boasts many names of which any people and any 
age might be proud. Mr. Stedman himself — who 
ppends his days in the mazes of finance and his 
leisure with the Muse — ^has supplied a noble vin- 
dication in his own exquisite poetry. 

Within the pages of the present volume will be 
found another and delightful proof of the fact 
that we have poets in our midst, who are able to 
interpret their own inspirations and read and 
touch the hearts of others. 

Although this is not Mrs. Baer's first appear- 
ance before the boards it is her first between them 
and it is sure to prove a pleasing debut. No re- 
cent book of poetry which we remember, contains 
so many original fancies, so many lines which 
awaken finer feelings, or so many patriotic and 
joyous sentiments calculated to inspire the mind 
and quicken the heart-beat of young American 



Introduction. xv 

manhood. The book is a clarion-call to faith and 
duty. 

The gifted authoress comes of a poetic lineage. 
Her ancestors on the paternal side were the two 
families Eiley and Swing, and from the former 
descended the eminent poet and humorist James 
iWhitcomb Riley ; from the latter the distinguished 
philosopher and divine, Professor David Swing of 
Chicago. Even during cliildhood the author's 
poetic genius was exhibited and her whole life has 
been replete with benevolent and philanthropic ef- 
fort. 

The Woman's Relief Corps which is allied with 
the Grand Army of the Republic and which per- 
formed so many noble, helpful and brave deeds 
during the late war, has seldom bestowed a high 
position upon a more worthy and patriotic woman 
than Mrs. Baer. No one could better compre- 
hend the anguish and suffering caused by the war 
with Spain than the devoted mother who sur- 
rendered to the nation the life of her best-loved 
son. No intelligent person could read the beauti- 
ful lines in this volume written to his memory, 
without a responsive chord of heartfelt sympathy. 

The various recitations are most admirable and 
have already been used with great success by teach- 
ers and platform readers, notably by Miss Sadie 
Sherman of Marion, Indiana. These alone would 



xvi Introduction. 

render this volume of poems unique and valuable. 
[We envy "Young America" the delight of memo- 
arizing these pretty and humorous pieces, each un- 
obtrusively instilling some lesson of goodness, 
purity and patriotism. 

Mrs. Baers enthusiastic love of country is most 
apparent in the inspired and tender lines ad- 
dressed to "The Flag." 

"0 flag, from out thy folds I see 
The face of one who died for thee ; 
Lest I might hate thee, tenderly 
I fold thee to my heart — ah ! me ! 
With anguished cry, 'It must not be.' 
Thank God ! though, home and heart's bereft 
I still have love of country left." 

Joseph Tyler Butts. 



a. — 



MN THE LAND OF FANCY" 
AND OTHER POEMS. 



IN THE LAND OF FANCY. I 

Never a cloud to darken the blue, \ 

Never a flower to lose its hue, \ 
Never a friend to prove untrue 

In the beautiful land of fancy. 1 

Never a joy to turn to pain. 
Never a hope to die or wane. 
Never a boon we may not gain 
In the beautiful land of fancy. 

Never a heart turns false or cold. 
Never a face grows gray or old, 
iNever a love we may not hold 
In the beautiful land of fancy. 

All of life that we crave or miss, 
(The world denies us half its bliss). 
Free, untrammelled, we have in this — 
In the beautiful land of fancy. 



PART I. 

SENTIMENTAL POEMS. 



WHAT IS LOVE? 

liove is joy and love is sorrow ; 
Love is sweet and bitter, too. 
Love is old as all creation, 
, Yet is love forever new. 

r 

Love is deep and love is cruel ; 

Love is tender, love is kind ; 
Love will come not at your bidding, 

Yet no place but love will find- 
Love will die unflinching for you, 

Love will kill as quick as hate; 
Love will brave the wrath of thunders. 

Yet will weep if barred by fate. 

You that love, you have my pity. 
You that have not loved at all, 

I will hope out of compassion 
Love will soon give you a call. 



" In the Land of Fancy " 



FANCY FREE. 

Sweet fancy, thou art free ! 
Plume thou thy wings for flight. 
Aye, cleave the clouds of night. 
O'er sail the turbid sea ; 
Leave all that clings to life of pain, 
And haste to thine own realm again. 

What golden shore is this? 

Seen oft, yet ever new. 

Sky of Utopian blue, 

Air pulsing with the bliss 

That fills the soul with tranquil rest. 

As birdling sheltered on its nest. 

Withdrawn from earth-born strife. 

Environments divine ; 

Soul joys alone are thine; 

Forgotten cares of worldly life 

The vital spark from earth mold free — ' 

Soul born in throes of ecstacy. 

Above the purple hills 
The dark, yet radiant skies. 
Whose stars are love-lit eyes 
Whose silent language gently thrills 



And Other Poems. 

My pulsing veins ; ah ! Fancy fair, 
Why build these castles in the air ? 

They are the resting place 

Of pilgrims on the way; 

The transients of a day, 

Eeceiving strength and grace to cope, 

With fate and stern reality. 

The "God speed" of humanity. 



LOVE. 



The spring has come : 
Whilst winter's snow is floating down 
On autumn's leaves so sear and brown. 
Life is renewed with rosy glow, 
Nor feels the cold nor heeds the snow — 

The spring has come. 

The roses rare: 
Born out of time, on bushes blown 
From which I thought all life had flown, 
This strange sight doth my vision meet. 
On bushes dead with fragrance sweet. 

Are roses rare. 



6 In the Land of Fancy" 

I hear a bird: 
A gladsome, sweet and thrilling note, 
Though long ago each feathered throat 
From leaf divested tree had fled. 
Yet plainly now I hear o'erhead 

The song of bird. 

And this is love : 
To wreathe with roses winter's brow. 
To wave a wand where sad hearts bow ; 
To bring delight when joy had fled. 
To life renew, to quicken dead — 

Ah! This is love. 



MY ENEMY. 

And she is dead! I loved her not, 
Yet wonder why my mind to-day 

Doth seek and linger 'round the spot 
Where lies so eold^ her senseless clay. 

I would not dare to venture near 
To look at that which once was she. 

And why is this? What need of fear? 
I hated her, she hated me. 



And Other Poems. 

Why should I go where she lies dead? 

I would not see the scornful smile, 
The haughty lifting of the head 

With which she greeted me the while. 

There was a time I loved her so, 
I had a hope I dare not name; 

I thought some time perhaps she'd know 
That I was not alone to blame. 

Had I but spoken — she was kind — 
She would have listened. Cruel fatet 

Why have I been so mad, so blind; 
Why waited till it was too late? 

I shall not see her cold, sweet face, 
^Twill haunt me to the day of doom; 

Eemorse will make my life a waste. 
And love will weep above her tomb. 



IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN". 
{Rondeau.) 
"It might have been," say you and I, 
On leaden wings the hours slip by; 
The joy we lost when sorrow came — 
The joy we missed, yet dare not name — 
''Nought else will fill the void," we cry, 



" In the Land of Fancy " 

So oft we feel that we must fly, 
And far beyond the earth and sky 
Forget the words that bum as flame — 
"It might have been/' 

They say "true love can never die/' 
Dissevered love will hover nigh, 
Like ghosts, we may not shun or blame, 
Nor yet caress, nor touch the same. 
Which whispers our poor souls to try, 
"It might have been." 



ESSENCE OF LOVE. 

"If I love you what is that to youT 
(An Old Saying.) 

Ay, 'tis fair beyond earth's seeing, 
Eare beyond all earthly things; 

Sweet as passing fragrance fleeing 
On the zephyr's noiseless wings. 

Gentle as the dew in falling, 
Or the unfolding of the flower ; 

Soul up-lifting, soul enthralling, 
Undeflnablc its power. 



And Other Poems. 

Was it your face that passed by me? 

Was it your voice that I heard ? 
Was it you that drawing nigh me 

Gave caress and whispered word ? 



Not your face, for others see that. 
What I see none else may view; 

You yourself may doubt you be that 
Which I've learned to know as you. 



There are voiceless words that thrill us, 
Which a sound from earth would mar; 

As with joy and wonder fill us 
Flash of swiftly falling star. 



Not the star its swift path burning, 
But the thought — "where has it flown ?" 

Fills with awe, and our soul's yearning 
Bums a path unto its own. 



If your radiance that's above you — 
And to which I've found the way — 

If for this then, I should love you, 
What is that to you, I pray? 



10 "In the Lantl of Fancy" 

SPIEIT OF THE NIGHT. 

Speak to me, Spirit of the Night! 
Thou art an Angel in my sight; 
To whom I come when lost to sleep. 
That I may on thy bosom weep. 
Thou holdest me, thou foldest me 
So lovingly, and now 
Thy fingers stray, and drive away 
The fever from my brow. 

Speak to me, Spirit of the Night ! 
With mourning robes, and face so white. 
Mourn thou, the Sun God, gone away 
With thy sweet sister, dazzling Day ? 
What magic balm makes thee so calm, 
And silent in thy woe? 
Free frOm unrest, which every breast 
Forsaken e'er must know. 

Speak to me. Spirit of the Night ! 
Say, Dost thy calm, prophetic sight 
See thou, thyself, turned into Day ? 
With sable robes all put away. 
To meet the Sun, supernal one, 
Who'll fold thee to his breast, 
And say : "Through pain, mv chosen gam 
This haven of the blest." 



And Other Poems. ii 

DOUBT AND LOVE. 

{A Sonnet.) 

"Love lives by faith," my lover to me said. 
In earnest tones which loving thought imbue 
iWith grace divine; such sense of honor, few 
On earth attain; and by his fervor led, 
My hopes to heaven on airy wings had sped; 
When I for answer must — as woman e'er do 
Needs question love, and say: "Can man he truef 
{0, cruel words, had they but been unsaid;) 
'A changed voice gave to me this cold reply : 
With hollow laugh bereft of all delight. 
"To question love doth but a doubt imply; 
And doubt kills love." And lo ! before my sight 
Love died, and hurled from out an angry sky. 
Hone bleeding fell upon the pall of night. 



WHEN MY SOUL EINDETH WINGS. 

Like roses the bright dream did pass. 
On swift, noiseless footsteps away ; 

Like glistening dew on the grass. 
Dissolving beneath the sun's ray. 



12 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Like voice of the lark that doth soar, 
Through the golden haze of the dawn ; 

Yon hear it and bend to adore, 
Just hear it and then it is gone. 



The lark on his swift, flashing wings, 

Keeps pace with the flowers in their flight ; 

And that's why when soaring he sings. 
And passes so swiftly from sight. 



I slept, and a vision did see. 

Of eyes that were tender and blue ; 

I awoke to know that for me 

The vision may never come true. 



The lark so^rs no more in the skies, 
He's gone with the roses and dew ; 

The face with the soft tender eyes. 
Comes never to gladden my view. 



My memory holds images fair. 
Of all these beautiful things ; 

Which I will be seeking somewhere, 
When my soul, as lark, findeth wings. 



And Other Poems. 13 

ILL-TIMED. 

There was something born within me 

with the coming of life's dawn, 
Yearning for that which it found not till 

life's summer days were gone ; 
Then at last it flashed upon me all the 

brightness of its gold, 
Flood and warmth of summer's sunshine on a 

heart bereft and cold. 

Not a bud to bloom for kisses of the 

drops of golden rain, 
Not a germ to throb its answer through 

the mold and live again; 
Not a bird to warble welcome — far 0, far 

away they'd flown, 
Seeking for a vanished summer and to 

this one were unknown. 

Had they known, had my soul known it (ah ! 

no word is half so sad — 
None so sad as "had" it been so or the 

joy that we "have had.") 
Out of season, out of reason, and than 

this, no sadder fate. 
To outlive the hopes that quicken when 

alas! it is too late! 



14 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Still my soul did plead in an^ish : "Hope 

deferred and joys denied — 
Give, give to me fulfilment, though the will 

of heaven's defied !" 
And in answer to my pleading, the sweet hope 

turned to regret, 
Who sad eyes upon me turning, murmured this 

one word: "Forget." 



PERHAPS. 

The passion of the dream, perhaps. 
May lessen as the days go by ; 
And thinking thus we may descry 
Somewhere within the ebon sky 

A flash of silver gleam, perhaps. 

God never made in vain, perhaps, 
A tender and aspiring soul. 
To grant it but a meagre dole. 
He yet may lead it to the goal, 

As recompense for pain, perhaps. 

Too oft we fret and grieve, perhaps. 
Too apt to fly in face of fate. 
And see our error when too late, 
Whilst if we have the grace to wait 

The boon we may receive, perhaps. 



And Other Poems. 15 



SPIKIT OF MY OWN TEUE LOVE. 

Spirit of my own true love, 

0, speak to me to-night; 
How far away the stars above, 

How softly falls their light. 
E'en so with thee — e'en so with thee. 
So far away — so near to me 

Thy spirit seems to-night. 

Spirit of my dream of dreams 

0, speak to me to-night; 
Through the stillness oft there seems 

To steal a sweet delight; 
And through the space — and through the space, 
A soft caress falls on my face 

Love of my dream of dreams! 

Spirit of my life, my heart, 

Since thou art far away. 
The tears from 'neath my eyelids start 

Each lonely night and day; 
And yet if these our souls may meet 
And ever hold communion sweet, 

Our bodies — what are they. 



26 "In the Land of Fancy" 



THE LAND OF LOST DELIGHT. 

Enwrapped in golden mist it lies, 
Near boundaries of paradise, 
Where mucic runs in rapturous rills 
Whose liquid laughter cleaves the hills 
In happy quest, with cunning wiles. 
And rippling song, and dimpled smiles. 
The verdant meadowland beguiles. 

I know not how it came to me. 

Or if by land or if by sea, 

I reached its shores, I know but this 

That I have tasted of its bliss, 

Have heard the songs from infinite space, 

That thrilled my soul in this fair place. 

Where love and hope met face to face. 

Swift to mine eyes the vision came. 
And set my ardent soul aflame ; 
When grown too precious to my sight 
It vanished as the stars of night ; 
My life's barque, mainly tempest-tossed. 
Doth know not when the line it crossed 
Where love was found and love was lost. 



And Other Poems. 17 



MY KING. 

0, pen you can not tell to him how 

thrilled are you hy fire, 
Transmitted through my finger tips 

defying all your art 
To shape these written letters to a 

kiss of mad desire. 
To picture all the love for him that's 

burning in my heart. 

But tell him that of castles fair all 

worthy of a King, 
I'd give him if I only could, and treasure 

health and fame, 
And every precious blessing, pen, 0, tell 

him I would bring. 
And write above all others there, in 

living fire his name. 

'Ay, tell him that his every wish should 

not be craved in vain — 
I fain would pluck the brightest star 

from out the skies above. 
And it should be a Idngdom fair in which 

that he might reign, 
The happiest of earthly Kings possessed 

of all, but love. 



l8 "In the Land of Fancy" 

And when he grew unhappy for a word 

or a caress, 
Which in his pride and affluence he slowly 

learned to miss, 
0, then my heart should fly to him and 

bring its love to bless, 
Each breath that erst did sigh for him should 

be the fondest kiss. 



IT WILL NOT COME AGAIN. 

It will not come again, I'll never see 
The summer's gladsome season of bright flowers. 
That crowned with glory all the golden hours 

When all my heart I freely gave to thee ; 
When sheltering peace seemed brooding in the 

skies. 
The same as that which shone within thine eyes. 
And rippling rapture thrilled that happy place, 
And music of sweet birds o'errun the space, 

It will not come again. 

It will not come again. True you may find 
Fulfillment of the dream that's lost to me; 
And brightest bloom of other summers see. 

And then perchance, thy friend may grow less 
kind. 



And Other Poems. 19 

And thou shalt feel the pain and mad suspense 
That I have known through thy indifference ; 
And say of me : "She loved me to the last." 
But vain regrets will not recall the past, 
It will not come again. 



THE SECRET. 

Thrills my soul with secret thought; 

Quick ! give thy word for mine ; 
That thy lips shall breathe of naught 

That my heart now tells to thine. 
Hush! 'twas but the fickle glow 
Of the moonlight on the snow. 

Stand not in the cold moonlight 
That doth now inconstant shine. 

I can not trust the listening night 
With the heart secret of mine. 

Hush ! 'tis but the restless breeze, 

Stirring in the leafless trees. 

Come from out the shadowy tree — 
My heart is quick in affright! 

The secret it would break to thee 
It dare not tell to-night. 



20 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Hush! There are, tho' hid, you know, 
Living things beneath the snow. 



Sunshine falls, and spring wind blows 
On the bed where hid from sight, 

Bud and blossom of the rose 
Soon will spring into the light. 

Swelling buds to rose tree tell 

Where the kiss of sunshine fell. 

Eedly now thy cheek doth glow. 

Through the veil of soft moonlight; 

'Neath thy eye-lids white as snow, 
Gleam thine eyes as stars so bright. 

Hush ! Although our lips be sealed. 

Love's sweet secret is revealed. 



1889. 
TOO LATE. 

'A lifeless life, a warmthless fire, 
A voiceless song, a stringless lyre ; 
A hopeless hope, a hollow joy, 
A gleam of gold that's but alloy; 
Blind eyes that turn on cloudless day. 
Bound feet that stand in thornless way. 



And Other Poems. 2t 

The brimming fountains e'er to see, 
Yet die of thirst continually; 
Tasting the fruit that nectar drips 
To turn to ashes on the lips ; 
In vain, in vain, the ill-timed fate, . 
Vouchsafed the precious boon — too late ! 



THE EAISING OF THE BAN. 

There is a fate that knows my heart. 
Its possibilities of bliss, 
And yet decrees that it shall miss 

Each joy, or gain a meagre part. 

Aye, just enough to tantalize — 
To make it keenly feel the pain 
Of knowing that it shall not gain 

That which it would so fully prize. 

Poor heart, with none to bless or save ! 
With vain imaginings sad as sweet. 
With yearnings like the waves that beat 

Within a rock-bound, sunless cave. 

Till lo ! The ceaseless toil hath brought 
A recompense. On some glad day 
They find the rock hath worn away, 

A glimpse of heaven they have caught. 



22 "In the Land of Fancy" 

E'en so my heart so highly strung, 
Which none save one may understand, 
And which save to the master's hand 

Shall keep its songs fore'er unsung. 

Which for its master long did wait, 
Alas ! It sought through all the years, 
Through unknown ways and rain of tears. 

To find him when it was too late ! 

For there fate stood all mocking by. 
She knew the life that she had marred, 
Trom this new bliss should be debarred. 

And heaven-bom love in dungeons lie. 

Her baneful smile struck like a knife ; 
For well she knew of all beside 
The hardest this to be denied. 

This ray of light to darkened life. 

She hoped to see my tear-drops flow 
Like Niobe's and hear the moan 
Of heart disconsolate and lone 

Undone by this most cruel blow. 

I raised my head that she might see 
A smiling and unflinching face 
On which the heart's pain left no trace — 

By art I wrought this mystery. 



And Other Poems. 23 

Aye, people said as I went past : 
"How happy and from care how free." 
None ever dreamed grief walked with me— 

So far I'd conquered fate at last. 

Ah! Well she knew the subtle art 
And saw through all the hollow guise 
The yearning, burning, haunted eyes, 

The stricken, bleeding, hopeless heart. 

She, ghoul-like, "cruel as the grave," 
To know she'd wrought this misery 
And yet to wish the world might see 

The markings of the blow she gave. 

And so she said : "Ah ! Even now. 
If I should deign, I have the power 
To grant your wish. If for one hour 

I raise the ban, then will you vow 

"That you, who have so reckless grown, 

Will ne'er again my laws defy, 

Or in the face of destiny fly, 
Or hide the wounds that mark my own?" 

And to the tyrant I said : "Yes, 
I give my promise ; set me free, 
And all my life I'll bend to thee 

If this one hour my life may bless." 



24 " In the Land of Fancy " 

And so that's how I came to you; 
Came all unheard within your door — 
You looked at me as ne'er before, 

And when you smiled, ah, well I knew 

That you were all I hoped to £nd. 

You bade me welcome, aye, and more — 
Who was it, dear, that closed the door ? 

And you were gentle, you were kind. 

Then all the world did disappear 
But just we two; but then you see 
That "you were all the world to me," 

With none to chide or none to fear. 

And you were gentle, you were kind, 
And 0, the moments sped away. 
And I had but an hour to stay. 

And love is sweet, tho' 'love is blind!" 

And you — you spoke first and you said. 
You said — and 0, your voice was sweet ! 
The words my poor heart shall repeat 

Through all the years till I am dead ! 

You said : "My own, my love so true !" 
Your voice so filled me with its bliss 
I could not speak, but gave the kiss 

That trembled on my lips for you. 



And Other Poems. 25 

The minutes just like seconds seemed, 
The hour a minute — nothing more; 
And am I banished from your door? 

Relentless fate ! I have hut dreamed. 



UNDER THE ROSE. 

Under her breath she breathes a name. 
Often she breathes it, and ever the same, 
The flash of hot blood doth fill her veins, 
Leaving the heart where the sweet name reigns. 

Under the darkness and stillness of night 
Cometh the dreams like doves so white ; 
Fly ! dove, before the light ; 
Hasten away ! from mortal sight. 

The perfumed roses in rapturous blisa 

Uplift to her lips in passionate kiss — 

Not on their bloom — no, not this, 

A kiss they don't ask for, or never would miss. 

Down in the deepest cell of her heart, 
Lives a something that is a part 
Of her soul, her life — aye, do not start. 
No power of reason, of fear, or art 



26 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Can banish it hence, or tell, I know, 
Why it is there, as pure as snow, 
Yet branded like sin, as crouching low. 
It hides from the cruel world's swift blow. 

It is not hope, nor is it despair; 
It is pure as an angel, as light as air. 
It is born of God, and is wondrous fair, 
But the blight of Eden hath fallen there. 

This its sin. On forbidden ground 
It was tempted to go, and there it found 
A warm, true heart, where it was crowned; 
But "Where art thou ?" is the fearful soujid. 

And out of Eden it driven shall be, 
To ashes will turn the fruit of the tree. 
And a flaming sword be placed at the gate. 
And love denied by decree of fate. 



TO 



The sun has passed to the farther side — 
For the years have gone when the wine was new, 
When the purple grapes in the sunlight grew, 
When mellowed and ripened by rhythmic rains, 
Was the wine that warmly thrilled in my veins; 



And Other Poems. 27 

When the world was true, and the chalice new 
That held the sweet wine distilled by love's dew; 
Bring not the new wine to the vessels old. 
The dizzy, mad love to the heart that's cold. 

I have passed o'er the hill from the sunny side, 
IWhere the shadows creep through the fruitless 

vines, 
Where the winds blow chill and the cold moon 

shines ; 
I may not turn back where the sunlight gleams. 
Where you stand my friend beneath its beams, 
Tot you shall be found the young heart true; 
For the sweet, new Avine be the chalice new. 
And glad of the joy and love that blend 
In your passionate heart, my dear young friend, 
Of friendship's garlands take fairest of these 
From one who drank of life to the lees. 



LOVE AND LIFE. 

(Love.) 

"0, Life, 0, strength, my all is thine, 
Come, clasp, 0, clasp thy hand in mine ; 
0, life, thy yieldance brings delight. 
Come, — come with me unto the height." 



28 "In the Land of Fancy" 

(Life.) 

0, Love, thy words bring bliss divine. 
With prophecy thy sweet eyes shine; 
With thee — with thee I fain would go 
Where skies expectant, radiant glow, 

(Love.) 

0, Life, to give is to receive, 
And the lost Eden to retrieve; 
I'll lead thee to the fairest bowers. 
In land of fruit and rarest flowers. 

(Life.) 

I haste, I haste, 0, Love, to thee, 
My soul hath reached its destiny; 
Together now we'll climb the height 
Of earthly hope and pure delight. 



FANTASY. 

0, my cares they rose like mountains 
And my troubles were severe. 

And the frost had locked the fountains 
Of my heart so cold and drear 



And Other Poems. 29 

When I said : "0, heart of sorrow 
Which of grief no more can hold. 

Thou wilt break when on the morrow 
Burdens still shall life unfold." 



Then my soul it answered clearly 

With an earnest whisper low: 
"To a land by thee loved dearly 

We will swiftly, swiftly go. 
There wilt care and sorrow leave thee; 

In that land of golden light 
Love is waiting to receive thee 

Just beyond this world of night." 

Then it cried : "0, Psyche, lead me, 

I am starving — well you know." 
Psyche answered : "If you heed me 

To this land you will not go." 
My soul said in trembling whisper 

Whilst my life's blood warmly glowed 
With wild passion: "Dearest sister. 

In the joy to be bestowed 

^Well, I know the dregs are bitter 
In the cup of sparkling wine ; 

And the serpent's folds do glitter 
Where true love and I recline; 



30 "111 the Land of Fancy" 

I risk nought whilst truly knowing 
That to stay is death to me, 

Hasten, then, stay not my going. 
For my love I fain would see." 

And she led me unresisting 

Where the summer's winds do blow. 
Fleecy clouds the sunlight misting 

And the singing streamlets flow; 
But all this with little heeding 

She had passed^ for well she Ivnew 
That the answer to her pleading 

Must be given, dear, by you. 

And she found you, and she found you 

'Neath the shadows of the trees. 
Where the leafy screen around you 

Shifted with the swaying breeze; 
Light and shadow slowly weaving 

Web that flashed beneath the sun — 
So my soul to thy soul cleaving 

Wove their fancies into one. 



Were earth's treasure to me given 
Fame and honor still in store. 

All I'd give, aye, hope of Heaven ! 
Could I be with you once more, 



And Other Poems. 31 

Not in dreams — to wake — to mar it — 

Standing by love's golden gate, 
We wonld close it, we would bar it ; 

Love is stronger still than fate. 



FEIENDS. 

"We will be friends?" She answered "Yes,' 
Whilst turned her heart to stone ; 

Yet thrilled again 'neath warm caress, — 
She wept when left alone. 

"And what's a friend ?" she musing said ; 

Than this no word more common; 
"My friend is come," "my friend is dead," 

"My friend," is man or woman. 

"My friend," when said in careless tone. 
Bears no warmth or confession ; 

"My friend," is oft, you needs must own 
Disliked beyond expression. 

The friend that's always proven true. 
We're glad to see and greet him ; 

The friend in need, with much ado 
We praise and long to meet him. 



# 



32 " In the Land of Fancy " 

But ihen these words do oftentimes 
Hide, deeper, holier feeling; 

Ah! Can you not, between the lines, 
Eead words past friends revealing? 

Aye, often "friends" are in disguise, 

And fate always unkind. 
Tears off their masks, and love's sad eyes 

Beneath one mask doth find. 



FOEBIDDEN FEUIT. 

Fair and beautiful it doth stand, 

More precious to the sight than gold ; 

The branches droop to eager hand 
Tempting almost beyond control. 

0, eyes beaming with wistful light, 
0, heart yearning for this sweet hour. 

Touch not the tree your life to blight 
It beareth fruit of deadly dower. 

0, feet that seemeth loath to move. 
Quick turn and go before too late; 

Temptation fly, the chains of love 
Are binding you in spite of fate. 



And Other Poems. 33 

0, love that like the Upas tree 

To bloom its own swift death to bring ; 

Or like the swan its voice to free, 
Its dying dirge, alas ! doth sing. 



ADEIFT. 

Out of a summer of roseate skies, 

The leaves are adrift, the leaves are adrift; 
Borne by the streamlet that gurgles and sighs- 
Piled in a brown and tangled rift, 
This is the song the dead leaves sing: 
"Adrift, adrift, 
O, yearning shore, 
Adrift, adrift, 
To return no more." 
This is the song the dead leaves sing. 

Out of the summer of a vanished dream. 

My hopes are adrift, my hopes are adrift ; 
Tossed on the waves of life's turbi'^ stream, 

Never again their wings to lift, 
This is the song the dead hopes sing : 
"Adrift, adrift, 
0, yearning heart, 
Adrift, adrift. 
Forever we part." 
This is the song the dead hopes sing. 



34 "In the Land of Fancy" 



DEAD. 

The moon is just as bright, 
The dew is on the spray, 
From stars there falls a light 

Almost as bright as day. 
The moon, 

The dew. 

The stars 
Almost as bright as day. 

Ah! Yes, and here's the tree. 

The rustic seat beneath. 
The distant lake I see 

Like glimpse of silver wreath. 
The tree. 

The seat — 

The lake 
Like glimpse of silver wreath. 

I sit upon the seat 
I weep in agony, 
I think of and repeat 

The words he said to me. 
I sit, 

And weep, 

And think 
Of words he said to me. 



And Other Poems. 35 

His voice in whispered tone. 
His touch to me was bliss; 
His lips just swept mine own — 

His first and his last kiss. 
His voice, 

His touch, 

His kiss, 
His first and his last kiss. 

Dead ! breathes the moon's pale light, 

Dead ! moans the drooping spray, 
Dead ! weeps the stars so bright, 

And gone forever away! 
Dead, 

Dead, 

DEAD! 
And gone forever away! 



LOVE'S STAE. 

"When I am dead," my lover said, 
"My soul shall be a star; 
And love will be the light that's shed. 

To guide thee from afar; 
Raise but thine eyes, in purest ray. 
My love will teach thy soul the way." 



36 " In the Land of Fancy " 

In darkest night, I see the light, 
So cold, and dim and far; 

Oh, cruel blight, when to thy sight 
Thy lover is a star. 

My heart is faint, the way is dim, 
That leadeth up to God and him. 



THE LETTER. 

You see my written words, dear, 0, let my 

words be fire, 
To breathe to you the secret that wastes itself 

in sighs. 
To say in loving whispers that to-night my 

heart's desire 
Is that I were these words, dear, to look 

into your eyes. 

To see you as you read this, if haughty 

is your brow. 
Or 'round your mouth doth linger a yearning 

tender — true ; 
Or if in condemn 'tion you glance upon 

them now. 
Be careful or these words, dear, may 

faint away from view. 



And Other Poems. ly 

Or if some other missive you are reading 

and should dare 
To put them back unread — soon forgotten 

and unseen, 
'Tis best I'm not these words, dear, if so 

I do declare 
With jealousy I'm positive these words 

would all turn green. 



PART II. 

RECITATIONS. 



THE ELOCUTIONIST. 

Before the entertainment an accident occurred 
To delay the "entertainer" who begged for just a 

word 
To explain the situation ; his face was all aglow, 
His language swift and natural as Niagara did 

flow. 
His train had been in peril — he told with bated 

breath — 
The Engineers quick courage had saved them all 

from death ! 
And every heart was thrilled, for the Professor's 

art 
Was hidden by emotion that welled up from his 

heart. 



40 "In the Land of Fancy" 

But after the explanation — when he started to 

"recite," 
His body struck an attitude, his voice it was a 

fright ! 
Fair nature had endowed him with genius, grace 

and heart, 
But now all this was hidden by the Professor's 

"art." 



OUE HEROES. 

"We honor those whose valor made 
Them heroes, we say ours; 

"Our" living heroes and "our" dead 
Whose graves we strew with flowers. 

Our veterans come with martial tread, 
Each May, ranks thinner grown; 

Whilst in the "City of the Dead," 
Elags are more thickly sown. 

Between two phantom armies cast. 

This remnant of the blue. 
How loyal they unto the past, 

And each to each how true. 



L^ ^ 



And Other Poems. 41 

The '1a§t one" shall not shrink with fear, 

But bravely close his eyes, 
As muffled drums are drawing near, 

His escort to the skies. 



When through the mist he sees the host, 

Then God be glorified ! 
He there shall find not one is lost 

Who for his country died. 



COME SING TO ME. 

Unto the common things belong 
Pathetic themes for tale and song; 
The very name of "Soldier's Home,'* 
Is full of pathos. None need roam. 
Nor may they fill a pauper's grave, 
Who fought their land and flag to save. 

This is our country's boast, and yet 
0, country mine, can we forget 
The glory won that will not fade? 
The debt we owe, by us unpaid, 
Our children's children, in their day, 
Will hold in pledge, but cannot pay. 



] 



42 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Nor yet is blame attached to thee! 
Of what thou hast thou givest free; 
Of food in plenty, raiment, too, 
And comradeship that's warm and true. 
All that the human heart doth miss, 
Thou canst not give ; the secret this 

Of sore unrest, a veteran's dream 
Of heaven, would not heaven seem, 
If woman's voice in gentle word, 
And laugh of child were never heard; 
His loss, the child to climb his knees, 
And woman's tender sympathies. 

More bravely none had fought the foe, 
More surely none had struck the blow 
That saved our country's flag and fame, 
Than Sherwood King, God bless the name ! 
My story proves the saying true. 
That bravest hearts are tenderest, too. 

As years passed by, misfortune came 

To Sherwood King, now old and lame; 

An inmate of a "Soldier's Home;" 

And when his time to die had come: 

"I ask but this one thing," said he ; 

"That — she — will come — and — sing — to me." 



And Other Poems. 43 

For he had heard in church one day, 
The wondrous voice of Helen Gray; 
And now in death's dark, trying hour, 
He longed to test its soothing power; 
The message sent, full soon she stood, 
The fairest dream of womanhood. 

Beside the dying soldier's bed; 
"I come to sing for you," she said. 
He saw the woman standing there. 
With form and face as angel fair; 
With lustrous eyes of azure blue. 
Soul-lit and tender, sweet and true. 

A scene for artist's pen or brush, 

The sick ward's calm and deathlike hush; 

The suffering forms on cots that lie, 

Whose faces with the coverlets vie 

In whiteness ; and grouped here and there 

Attendants gaze on scene so rare. 

Like rippling wave or trepid wing. 
That with earth's sorrows sob and cling. 
The sweet voice faltered for a space; 
Then heaven's glory filled the place; 
With mystic fire and perfect art 
She sang in language of the heart. 



44 "In the Land of Fancy" 

(Song "Soldier of the Legion Lay Dying ct 
Algiers/' etc.) 

So sang the woman, from each bed 
A patient sufferer raised his head. 
With eager, hungry eyes to trace 
The heaven-born beauty of that face; 
The dymg soldier's soul set free, 
Doth rise on waves of ecstasy. 

(Song "We Shall Meet^ but We Shall Miss 
Him," etc.) 

The liquid tones have died away. 
Half dreaming there each veteran lay ; 
Then heaven to him seems very near. 
And death is robbed of all its fear, 
If through the valley cold and dim. 
Sweet Helen Gray may sing for him. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 

Thousands fall in line to-day! 
"Keep it sacred," patriots say, 
"Bring the flags and bring the flowers 
For these heroes brave of ours." 



And Other Poems. 45 

Onward march ! Memorial Day, 
Where the sleeping thousands lay; 
Year by year and year by year 
Silently they bivouac here. 



Hush ! The ranks grow on apace ! 
One by one they take their place ! 
Bravely cross the cold divide, 
Lie down by their comrades' side. 



When the last faint straggler falls, 
Crape the flags in chartered halls; 
Treasured souvenir, badge and star, 
Sacred memory, G. A. R. 



Still the sleeping army brave 
Guards the land they fought to save; 
In grand lessons they taught well 
In the spirit of F. C. L. 



Eest beneath the flag unfurled. 
Grandest army of the world; 
This thy trust, 0, nation ours ! 
Strew the sacred dust with flowers. 



46 "In the Land of Fancy" 



OUE FLAG. 

I care not by whom, or when, or where, 
Was designed our glorious flag so fair, 
'Twas patriot's heart by brave deeds fired, 
A poet's soul by heaven inspired. 
And be it night or be it morn, 
Our flag, our flag was heaven-born ! 

Methinks he roamed at twilight hour, 
When rainbow tinted, bathed with dew, 

Bloomed many a fair and fragrant flower, 
Whose perfume whispered, "Where may you 

Find brighter hues in all the world 

To bedeck the flag as yet unfurled?" 

But mused he still, with head bowed low, 
On many a soul-inspiring scene — 

The lofty mountains capped with snow. 
The silver lake, the river's sheen; 

The golden mist of fair sunrise 

In far famed Italy's azure skies. 

Enraptured still, he sees beyond 

The flash of bright and cooling wing?. 

Where palm tree lifts its stately frond 
Above the lucid, sparkling springs; 



And Other Poems. 47 

Where gold and crimson fruit abound, 
And flowers of every hue are found. 

The setting sun, his cloak of gold 
Doth cast upon the verge of night, 

Where waves of purple, fold on fold 
Eeflect the glory of his flight. 

Then steal soft rays of moon afar. 

Enamored love's fair avatar. 

Musing he said: "What colors true 
May grandly represent this theme 

Which fills my heart. Ah ! Heaven's blue — 
Nor mortals ken how high its gleam. 

Nor sound its depths within the sea, 

Blue, for the flag of liberty ! 

Enraptured still his dreamy eyes 

That roving sought but sought in vain 

The earth's remotest boundaries. 

Are upward turned to heaven again; 

From fleecy clouds with silver wrought, 

His soul hath inspiration caught. 

Ay, white shall mingle with the blue. 

White emblem is of purity ; 
White erst the shroud of brave and true 

Who made freedom a surety; 






/ 



<' 



48 'In the Land of Fancy" 

"White speaks the coming of the dawn, 
White for the infant nation, bom. 

Then as his step he homeward turned. 

And downward swooped the wings of night. 

Afar — afar a red light burned, 

From distant home a welcome sight. 

"Ah ! Many a sailor lost would be 

Save for the beacon light," said he. 

'Tis hope's red star above the gloom ; 

And red hath stained the battlefield 
Where traitors met a traitor's doom, 

For freedom's sons will never yield. 
Tied, White and Blue, the colors be 
That make the flag of liberty. 



SACRIFICE OF THE FLOWERS. 

The winter with snow had covered the earth, 
Protecting the germs to which spring giveth birth ; 
Fair April, their nurse, with sunshine and rain 
HatH nurtured and coaxed them to blossom again. 
Her mission now finished, she gives them to May, 
Who consecrates them to Memorial Day. 
(Refrain.) 



And Other Poems. 49 

0, flowers, sweet semblance of life and decay, 
Wliat emblem more fitting Memorial Day; 
From graves the green altar of our sacrifice 
Like incense the perfume of blossoms arise. 

They're coming — the veterans aged and gray. 
They're coming — the children, patriots, they, 
With hearts full of love, arms laden with flowers. 
To place on the graves of these heroes of ours. 
With praise and with song repeating the story 
Of valorous deeds, of death and of glory. 
(Refrain.) 

The army divided grows less on this side ; 
One after another they cross the dark tide; 
The last of the veterans soon will have found 
The end of the march on the last camping-ground. 
But lessons they taught and Memorial Day 
Shall live while the blossoms return to the M;iy. 
(Refrain,) 



THE LOYALTY OF WOMAN. 

'Tis mete that for our warriors 

We come, Memorial Day, 
With flags unfurled while drumbeat 

And bugle lead the way; 



50 'In the Land of Fancy" 

That o'er their last encampment. 
Where never stirs a soul. 

In memory of their valor 
The boom of cannons roll. 



But save in gentlest whisper 

Come not in woman's name; 
Drumbeat and blare of bugle 

Should not her deeds proclaim. 
Yet, though her duty led her 

Not in the battle's heat, 
Her zeal spurred men to conquest, 

And cheered them in defeat. 

There, when death's angel hovered, 

Her feet sped swift and sure; 
Her touch brought balm and healing. 

Her voice strength to endure. 
Did woman's heart e'er falter 

In war of gray and blue? 
To God, or flag, or country 

Her heart e'er prove untrue? 

For every wounded soldier, 

Or hero who hath died, 
Some woman, too, hath suffered — 

In soul been crucified ! 



And Other Poems. 51 

Ah ! 'Tis the cry of woman, 

Methinks — the sad refrain — 
That gives to martial music 

A subtle sense of pain. 

The brightest deeds recorded 

In God's own book above, 
Are of man's dauntless courage 

And woman's deathless love. 
Their names may not be severed. 

The veteran's deeds we own. 
But woman's hands upheld him, 

"The power behind the throne.'* 



SOLDIERS THAT WEAR THE BLUE. 

Soldiers that wear the blue. 
Of firm and steadfast hue, 
How beats your heart to-day? 
What words have you to say? 
Soldeirs that wear the blue. 

With form less lithe and gay, 
With head bowed low and gray. 
With listless, weary mien. 
Aged ere your time, I ween. 
Soldiers that wear the blue. 



52 "In the Land of Fancy" 

But, ah ! I know full well 
There is a magic spell 
If wrought, lo ! you would stand 
An army proud and grand, 
Soldiers that wear the blue. 

Let menace dare be shown 
Your flag — your country's own — 
Transfigured you would rise, 
A wall that death defies — 
Soldiers that wear the blue. 

How beats your heart to-day? 
What words have you to say? 
Of words you have not need. 
Your lustre is the deed! 
Soldiers that wear the blue; 
Soldiers so tried and true. 



AN UNREPENTANT EEBEL. 

I picked up the National Tribune, and these 

lines chanced to see : 
"If anybody reading this knows aught of George 

H. Lee, 
"Who fought at Cedar Mountain, Seventeenth 

Regiment, 0. V. I., 



And Other Poems. 53 

Please send the information to Leon J. Bamiby, 
San Cristobel Messina, State of New Mexico," 
I read it over carefully, though the chap I didn't 

know; 
I couldn't help but wonder why on earth ha 

wanted me ; 
For I fought at Cedar Mountain — my name is 

George H. Lee, 
And that was my old regiment, the Seventeenth 

0. V. I. 
So I sat down and wrote to him and waited a 

reply. 
The answer came back quickly; I had almost 

forgot 
The circumstances, but it seems this here chap 

had not. 
The penmanship was scrawly; "God bless you," 

it began ; 
"Though the past I'm not forgittin', let us talk 

as man to man. 
Fur in spirit I'm not conquered, although the 

fightin's done, 
I stan' on the same groun' I stood in eighteen 

sixty-one ; 
An' when it comes to principle, I say the South 

was right ; 
An' jes as bad as ever I am dyin' fur a fight. 



54 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Yes, I fought the sneakin' Yankees, I shot 'em fur 

to kill! 
An' to say that I am conquered, you bet I never 

will. 
But the life they tried to take — the confounded 

Yankee crew — 
At the battle of Cedar Mountain wuz saved, ole 

feller, by you ! 
Of course you must remember the chap that help- 
less lay 
So very, very near to death when you come by 

that way. 
An' stanched my bleedin' wounds and give to me 

a drink 
Erom out your ole canteen, sir. How queer ! An' 

jes to think 
iYou was doin' your best to kill me less than an. 

hour before, 
Now doin' your best to save me, although you 

cussed an' swore 
I wasn't wuth a-savin' nor half the trouble you 

took 
A-carryin' an' draggin' till you got me to the 

brook ; 
An' washin' off my face an' wounds, an' easin' up 

my head. 
An' all the time declarin' you wished every rebel 

dead, 



And Other Poems. 55 

An' sayin' I wuz rather young to be in sich a war, 
An' safe at home with mother I'd better be by far ; 
An' promisin' that after the battle wuz all done 
You would come back an' fin' me, if some 'ole son 

of a gun' 
Didn't git a 'drop on you/ an' your canteen left 

me. 
On which I foun' these words inscribed : 'High 

Private George H. Lee, 
Of that grand old Buckeye Eegiment, the Seven- 
teenth 0. V. I.' 
Ah! Twice its weight in gold would not that 

canteen buy ! 
My boys come by an' foun' me an' I got safely 

hum. 
But never could furgit you; an' if you ever come 
Down this here way, oie feller, to the State of 

New Mexico, 
Why, then, jes sen' me word of it, fur I want you 

to know 
The best that's in this kentry is spilin' fur you 

here. 
An' a heart to make you welcome as any comrade 

dear — 
Tliough I do not like the Yankees, nor sorry ary 

bit 
That I fought fur seceshun. Tho' I've not lost 

the grit 



56 "In the Land of Fancy" 

I had in the ole war time ; yet there keeps hauntin' 

me 
The name an' generous deeds of High Private 

George H. Lee. 
An' if every Union soldier had a heart as big as 

you 
I think I could forgive 'em fur wearin' of the 

blue; 
An' I'd pension 'em an' give 'em' all the land they 

fought to save, 
An' let the Starry Banner undisturbed above 'em 

wave; 
Fur if ever I furgit you may my carcass hang on 

high. 
From an unrepentant rebel, Leon J. Barniby." 



THE VETEEAN'S LESSON". 

Life was a burden to Hiram McKee, 
Adrift as he was, a wreck of the war ; 

"Why could I not have died," said he; 
"Death were better for me by far." 

People had called him cross and grim. 
Who met him oft at O'Donnell's store- 

A comrade who kept a place for him 
To sit and fight his battles o'er. 



And Other Poems. 57 

Shuffling in with his crutch and cane, 
He limply sank in his chair one day; 

His face was pale and drawn with pain, 
His eyes were restless and keen and gray. 

Suddenly sitting alert and straight. 

He said to O'Donnell— he called him "BilP— 

"This is the month and the very date 
We fought the hattle of Perryville. 

"There I was wounded and brother Ned 
Was killed, you know ; a pretty hot place ;" 

"Oh, give us a rest," a young man said, 
And sneered in the veteran's face. 

Into the eyes of the veteran came 
A sudden flash of indignant fire; 

"And this to me? You cur! for shame I 
Base son of an ignoble sireT' 

Eising full length with angry clutch 
At his cane — one leg was gone — 

And reaching out, as he leaned on his crutch, 
The arm with no hand on ! 

"Vile wretch !" he cried ; "low underling ! 

I dare thee now to look on me 
And once again thy insults fling 

At him who fought and bled for thee ! 



58 "In the Land of Fancy'* 

"^Hie ye away to regions where 

No foot hath pressed a blood-bought sod ; 
Thou hast no right to freedom's air. 

Nor mercy of a righteous God ! 

"Thousands for thee have bled and died, 
Or live like me — a fate far worse " 



"Oh, pardon me," the young man cried, 
"And give me not, I pray, your curse ! 

"Thoughtless I spoke, I see it now, 
Nor will forget it while I live !" 

A blush of shame o'erspread his brow 
As Hiram said: "If I forgive, 

'^ill you the soldier's cause defend?" 

This answer was returned: 
"Henceforth I am the veteran's friend, 

Your lesson I have learned." 



MEMORIAL DAY THOUGHTS. 

Think of it ! Think of it ! Think how they died ! 
Dead in their manhood, their vigor, their pride ; 
Strength for the marches and strength for the 

fray, 
Mortally wounded, their strength ebbed away. 



And Other Poems. 59 

Shattered and dying, they lay on the plain — 
Thirst, with its cravings, to madden the pain. 
Think of it ! think of it ! think how they died ! 
Dead in their manhood, their vigor, their pride. 

Think of it ! think of it ! day after day. 
Slowly and surely their lives ebbed away; 
Sick unto death in the hospital's gloom, 
Drifting in dreams to a white-curtained room; 
Drifting away from the pain and the strife. 
Under their roof tree with mother — or wife ; 
Like transient visions, as light of the day 
Wanes in the darkness, their souls passed away. 

Think of it ! think of it ! shuddering when 
I'ancy doth lead to the foul prison pen. 
God ! my country ! if could be erased 
Memory's pictures by horror defaced ; 
Eyes of our loved ones, by hunger made wild. 
Gaunt forms of father, of husband or child. 
Coming at night from the caves of the dead. 
Begging for water, for air and for bread ! 

Think of it ! think of it ! widows whose years 
Led through the valley of anguish and tears ; 
Children who, fatherless, never may know 
Counsel and care which kind fathers bestow. 



6o " In the Land of Fancy ** 

Life and its pleasures for death and the gravel 
Giving it freely, his country to save. 
Think of it ! think of it ! Christlike to give 
All, that his people might prosper and live. 

Think of it ! think of it ! coming to-day 
Laden with sweet-scented blossoms of May. 
Tenderly place them where grasses have grown, 
Over their faces, and o'er the "unknown." 
Bend in deep reverence over each grave. 
Kissed by God's sunshine or hid by his wave. 
We loyally love them, and claim them as "ours/' 
With thoughts of remembrance as sweet as the 
flowers. 



REQUIESCAT IN" PACE. 

Cover with flowers the wound of the dart, 
Fill it with flowers, the void in the heart ; 
Tenderest thoughts are unfolding to-day, 
Sweet as the blossoms a-bloom in the May. 

Think not of suffering, bloodshed and strife, 
Think not of loss that hath come to thy life. 
Think of the peace with suffering done. 
Think of the glories their sacrifice won. 



And Other Poems. 6i 

THE UNCON-QUEEED FLAG. 

(Tune, "Home, Sweet Home.") 

What say the flowers, as languishing upon the 
graves they lie? 

They whisper, "Patriots, guard the flag, for this 
did heroes die; 

Their lives they gave, and willingly, to set their 
country free; 

So guard it, the unconquered flag, which they be- 
queathed to thee. 

They bequeathed to thee. 

So guard it, the unconquered flag, which they be- 
queathed to thee." 

What say the flags that mark the graves where 
martyred heroes sleep? 

They whisper, "I a secret hold to make the angels 
weep; 

I love the grave that holds the dust of him who 
died for me. 

So guard it, the unconquered flag, which they be- 
queathed to thee; 

They bequeathed to thee. 

So guard it, the unconquered flag, which they be- 
queathed to thee." 



62 "In the Land of Fancy" 



FAREWELL, OLD FLAG. 

(The brave boys of the 120th 0. V. I., being 
consolidated with the 114th 0. V. I — being re- 
duced below the minimum — shed bitter tears 
upon being told that they must part with their 
regimental flag.) 



Our flag must go? Another's wave 
Above our heads, old comrades, hear! 

I wonder not, my true, my brave, 
To see you shed the scalding tear. 

So few are left? Yes, they fell 

In weary march by shot and shell; 

Some, dying, whispered : "Boys, farewell, 
Protect that fla": !" 



It was the first on Hideman's crest — 
Our own brave Wallace placed it there; 

The shot fell thick about his breast 
And grazed his sunny, flowing hair. 

We followed him! Conquer we must! 

Conquer we did; our cause was just. 

And many a traitor bit the dust 
Beneath that flag! 



And Other Poems. 63 

On Chicksaw Bluffs our flag was found, 

Black Eiver, Vicksburg, Champion Hill, 
Grand Gulf, Fort Blakely's bloody ground. 

We cheered to see it floating still; 
At Jackson and Arkansas Pest, 
Port Gibson, it was still our boast — 
At Horseshoe Bend lay dead the most 
Beneath that flag ! 



"So few of us are left \" say you, 
And we must take another's name; 

Then to our flag, our colors true. 
Boys, up ! and rally once again ! 

We kiss the folds our tears doth stain 

And from the hands of comrades slain. 

We send thee safely home again, 
Our 'tattered flag! 



And when in our proud Capitol hung. 

Safe from a desecrating hand, 
Thou'lt tell how dearly peace was brung 

To this, our own beloved land. 
Proud that thy folds doth bear our name. 
To every land on earth proclaim. 
Touch not, nor hope to bring to shame 
America's flag! 



64 "In the Land of Fancy" 

SONG. LAVENA. 
(Tune, "Lorena.") 

And can I e'er forget, Lavena, 

The happy days so long ago? 
The first time that we met, Lavena, 

The apple blossoms were in blow; 
The glance vouchsafed from eyes so blue, 

Enchanting were as Summer's skies; 
My heart beat fast, and well I knew 

I'd found the love that never dies. 
(Refrain) 

My heart beat fast, and well I knew 

I'd found the love that never dies. 

One year had passed again, Lavena, 

We stood beneath the apple bloom, 
Your heart was filled with pain, Lavena, 

In brooding o'er a soldier's doom ; 
For war had come and I must go, 

And you, so tender and so brave. 
Had whispered while your tears did flow: 

"We must our flag and country save." 
'(Refrain) 

Had whispered while your tears did flow : 
"We must our flag and country save." 



And Other Poems. 65 

Perhaps the sacrifice, Lavena, 

Was more to you than 'twas to me; 
Despair was in your eyes, Lavena, 

Such is the price of liberty ! 
^'Farewell," I said, "within my heart 

Your lovely image is enshrined, 
And though we may be far apart 

The chords of love our hearts shall bind. 
(Eefrain) 

And though we may be far apart 

The chonds of love our hearts shall bind." 

Four years had passed, and Lavena, 
As joy unmeasured is by years. 

E'en so the "cup of woe," Lavena, 
Can measure not the flow of tears. 

But blood-bought victory at last 
Had perched upon our banner fair; 

From prison pen that held me fast 

I stepped into God's own free air. 
(Eefrain) 

From prison pen that held me fast 

I stepped into God's own free air. 

My first thought was of you, Lavena, 

For months from you I had not heard, 

And yet your heart was true, Lavena, 
I to myself fondly averred. 



66 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Alas ! that I should live to know 
My sacrifice had been so great; 

Had war but dealt its deadliest blow 
It would have been a happier fate. 
(Eefrain) 

Had war but dealt its deadliest blow 
It would have been a happier fate. 

The sun had lowly set, Lavena, 

I stood beneath the apple bloom; 
^Twas here that first we met, Lavena, 

And now I stood beside thy tomb ! 
As snow-white blossoms from the tree 

Fell softly fluttering on thy grave 
Thy whispered words came back to me: 

"We must our flag and country save." 
(Eefrain) 

Thy whispered words came back to me : 
"We must our flag and country save." 



FAIR OHIO'S WATERS. 

Oh, the days that sped so fast, 
Days that were too sweet to last. 
When my happiest hours were passed 
Weaving garlands which I cast 
On fair Ohio's waters. 



And Other Poems. 67 

Dearest river, in youth's time, 
Joy of loved hearts and of mine, 
Not in any other clime 
Waves so bright and blue as thine. 
Oh, fair Ohio's waters. 



Gleaming in the morning light, 
Flashing in the noontide bright. 
Shimmering 'ncath the moon at night, 
Ever gladsome to my sight. 
Oh, fair Ohio's waters. 

Emerald shore and purple hill. 
Where the grape with wine doth fill, 
Wliere happy birds their songs do trill 
And fragrance doth the air distill 
By fair Ohio's waters. 

O'er the moonlit sparkling sheen 
Flashed our boat as in a dream. 
And as clouds came in between 
Silver moon and silver gleam 
Of fair Ohio's waters. 



So the war cloud gathering bore 
O'er our land and to thy shore 



68 "In the Land of Fancy" 

That wild cry for more and more — 
Then my lover dropped his oar 
By fair Ohio's waters. 



Brave he looked, so stem and tall ; 
"I go !" said he, "my country's call 
Shall answered be ;" my tears did fall 
And darkness spread like funeral pall 
O'er fair Ohio's waters. 



Farewells echoed by that shore 
Meant farewell for evermore; 
Home he came, flags drooping o'er 
His dead form, which steamer bore 
O'er fair Ohio's waters. 

Far, far from thee I roam, 
Yet when heart is sad and lone 
Back it ■'"urns toward its own. 
Seeking for its childhood's home 
By fair Ohio's waters. 

This shall be my last request, 
When shall end life's loneliness. 
Be the grave where I shall rest 
On the vine-clad, purple crest 
By fair Ohio's waters. 



And Other Poems. 69 



A EETEOSPECT. 

(Eespeetfully dedicated to the Grand Army of 
the Eepublic, August 39, 1888, and read on the 
occasion of the dedication of the Wisconsin Veter- 
ans' Home.) 

Hand me the glass ! Field glass of time ; 

I look athwart the years so gray; 
No fairer scene in farther clime 

E'er 'neath the sight of mortal lay. 

The purple hills and shadowy vales. 
The mountains liigh, the waters deep. 

The city's spires, nor eyesight fails 
To note the rolling prairie's sweep. 

But flowing from the village white 
A stream of blue doth flashing run; 

Bewildering brain it meets the sight, 
Till memory whispers " '61." 

Ah ! Sixty-one ! What visions rise ! 

Sad memories, how they crowd the day ! 
In stream of blue we recognize 

Our brave men rushing to the fray. 



70 "In the Land of Fancy" 

bygone years, what do you hold 
Of hope, despair of ill and good ; 

Of broken hearts and pain nntold — 
Of fatherless and widowhood? 

God sees the sparrow that doth fall ; 

God's angels watch with mournful eyes 
Those who go forth at freedom's call 

And give their lives in sacrifice. 

Southern plains, your rippling rills 

Bore to Kanawha's waters deep 
Blood of our best ; Southern hills 

Give back the treasure that you keep ! 

Forgive the thought ! For where they sleep, 
There, too, was poured proud Southern blood ! 

E'en as they sowed, so did they reap 
The whirlwind of avenging God. 

Now where the Blue and where the Gray 
Lie side by side and strife doth cease, 

We welcome forth a new-bom day 

Where Stars and Stripes may wave in peace. 

All hail, New South ! and ever now 

Together we must rise or fall ; 
One land, one flag, alone we bow 

To that one God who rules o'er all. 



And Other Poems. 71 

We drop the glass dimmed with our tears, 
And who are these from near and far. 

With heads of gray bowed with the years, 
Who wear the badge of G. A. E. ? 

When traitors dared our laws defy 

And dared their country's flag to scorn 

They ever found it borne on high 
By Freedom's sons to freedom born. 

These are the soldiers who have fought 
And marched and bivouacked side by side ; 

These the friends that, bending, caught 
Last words of comrades as they died. 

Ah ! What may be their thoughts, I ween, 
What phantom shadows 'fore them flit; 

What see the eyes that flame hath seen 
Of solid wall and rifle pit ? 

God bless our "boys," no longer young. 
Who soon or late must surely fall ; 

The dirge for each sadly be sung 
When they respond to that last call. 

But far beyond the setting sun, 
Beyond this life, for them we see 

A recompense for triumphs won — 
A golden crown of victory ! 



72 "In the Land of Fancy" 



CHANCELLORSVILLE, 1863. 

It was twilight hour on the second of May ; 

The flowers looked up from the sod, 
And the nesting birds in the hush of the day 

Had v/arbled their songs to their God. 
And the sun had set on valley and hill 

The red seal of doom at Chancellorsville, 

Oh, why, oh, why, on this fair Summer's day, 
In this flower-laden, beautiful spot, 

Should men crouch low like beasts of prey 
And their hearts cry out : "Spare not !" 

As upward they sprang, "Stonewall" at their head, 
To smite the living and trample the dead? 

Wild were the cries at the first attack; 

Our line it wavered and then it broke ; 
And the dead were strewn o'er the fire burnt track, 

As trees are felled by the lightning's stroke. 
E'en the gunners had joined in the hopeless run, 
Till checked by the voice of Pleasanton. 

"Stand by your guns!" is the stern command; 

The army is turned in its backward flight ; 
But alas, too late ! The destroying band. 

Like a dread simoon, doth rise in sight. 



And Other Poems. J^ 

"My God ! Will they get their guns in place 
With this storm of death hurled in their face ?' 



Brave Keenan was there like a statue of stone ; 

Like statues his cavalrymen stood there; 
With flash of the eye and heart-beat as one 

They watched their leader, nor swerved a hair. 
"Will you and your troopers this onset dare 

break?" 
"Aye, sir," said Keenan, "for our country's sake." 

Swift was his glance at the guns on the hill, 
Keen as an eagle's it fell on his men. 

Curled his stern lip as he answered, "We will !" 
"God help !" said the General, turning, and then 

He heard the quick order that rang loud and clear, 

"CHAEGE CAVALRY!" answered by many a 
cheer. 



Never a man of them shrank, though they knew 
They made their last charge on that fast-fading 
day; 

Proud were their faces, though deathly in hue 
As bleeding they sank on the blossoms of May. 

Close by their leader, who fought side by side, 

There, with their leader, they fell and they died. 



74 "In the Land of Fancy" 

The rebels were cheeked in their march to the hill. 
The army was saved, though the guns were yet 
mute. 
Saved by those heroes who lay cold and still, 
When the guns rolled above them a sad death- 
salute. 
None more do we honor, whose names shall live 

still. 
Than those martyred heroes of Chancellorsviile. 



SOLDIER'S MOTHER'S LA]\IE>TT. 

He is gone, he is gone ! 

joy of my heart ; 

How bright seemed his future for which he did 

yearn ; 
He is gone, he is gone — 

1 saw him depart ; 

But, 0, aching heart, will you see him return ? 

There is news, there is news ! 

0, heart, wildly beating. 
My boy must be safe, or how could he write ? 

But a word, but a word: 

"The foe is retreating; 
I hasten away to pursue and to fight \" 



And Other Poems. 75 

Did you speak, did you speak ? 

A message, you say; 
No need to repeat the result of the fight ; 
He is dead ! he is dead ! 
0, my country, to-day 
I lay on thy altar my hope and my life ! 



OUR NOBLE DEAD. 

Ah ! Not with martial step he comes. 
Nor blare of fife or roll of drums ; 
But like the wraith of that proud form 
That won its fame in battle storm, 
He lieth down his wearied head, 
To bivouac with the noble dead ! 



MAD MAEGUERITE; OR, "ZIB," THE 
MOUNTAIN GUIDE. 

"The world's a stage" is often said, the truth of 

which none will gainsay, 
The hero and the villain each assume the role 

which they portray. 



76 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Tear off their mask?, 'neath villain's garb a hero 

grand you may descry; 
The hero stripped of his disguise, a villain of the 

deepest dye. 

In real life oft the vilest heart 'neath hroidered 

cloak may hidden be, 
While many a gem of rarest worth is wrapped in 

rags of poverty. 

4.nd who am I? The landlord ask of yon hotel 

where tourist's bide, 
And he will say: "0, that is Zib, in him you'll 

find a clever guide." 

Is it not queer, ah! passing strange, that I could 

play my part so well 
That none I served have ever dreamed that I was 

once a reigning belle? 

In fashion's world ; ha ! ha ! last week Sir Gresham 

paid to me the fee 
To pilot him o'er dizzy heights; had he but knoMTi 

that I — was she ! 

"Here, Zib," he'd say, "don't go so fast." "You 

rascal, hurry up !" he'd cry 
Who once on bended knees had sworn that he for 

me would gladly die. 




' Sadie '' Sherman as " Mad Marguerite." 



And Other Poems. *j'] 

And so it goes. But ah! To-day a party came, 

and fate or not, 
There was with them my dear old friend and 

schoolmate, gentle Gene Scott. 

And all went well till coming back she stumbled, 

and to stay her feet, 
I turned and met her face to face ; she murmured, 

"Ah ! ^Tis Marguerite !" 

And then when safely at the base, in whispers low 

she said to me : 
"Eemain here on this very spot, and I will soon 

return to thee." 

She comes ! I'm here, my lady ; of course Tm 

glad you've come; 
In those bright, happy school days, you were my 

dearest chum ! 

But then the school days ended; our lives led far 

apart ; 
Your spirit was so gentle ; but mine was passion's 

heart ! 

You know my father died abroad — I had no friend 

beside 
To give me guidance ; none, in fact, since my dear 

mother died. 



78 " In the Land of Fancy" 

You say, in spite of all that's told, you still love 

Marguerite? 
From lips unused to lying, those words sound 

strangely sweet; 

Oh, say it again, my darling, again those words 

^•epeat — 
I stand on the brink of the sinless past when you 

call me "Marguerite." 

There ! You have seen my weakness ; my will has 

lost its power; 
I needs must hide my feeling, as thorn doth guard 

the flower. 

But ere your gentle presence doth vanish from my 

sight, 
I pray you hear my story, that j^ou may judge 

aright. 

They told you I was an actress, that my beauty 

was a snare 
That lured men to their ruin, on the brink of black 

despair. 

That this was what I lived for — to see, to conquer, 

and then 
To seek new worlds to conquer ; that my "worlds" 

were the hearts of men! 



And Other Pccms. 79 

Of all you've heard, there's much that's true, so 

naught will I deny ; 
I'd sworn a war on hearts of men — and now I'll 

tell you why. 

Ere this I had loved Paul De Vere ; he pledged his 

love for mine. 
Ah! Woman with your white, lusk face, you 

know not love like mine! 

My love is fire ! As wide as world, as deep as is 

the sea; 
A love that must not be denied; and he — proved 

false to me ! 

In search of health, an English lord had brought 

his daughter here, 
And she, my lord's fair daughter, won the heart 

of Paul De Vere. 

She, with her wealth of cornsilk hair, pale gold, 
and the pink and white 

Of her baby face; her sea-blue eyes, with ever- 
changing light — 

She won him ; and, on bended knees, I went to her 

and said : 
''My lady, Paul is frothed to me; this Fall we 

had been wed, 



8o •' In the Land of Fancy " 

Save for your coming ; lady, fair, give him back 

to me! 
Oh, pity, pity my despair, and Heaven will prosper 

thee." 

She tapped her fan impatiently, a dark frown on 
her brow. 

"For shame," she said, "you silly girl; as he for- 
gets his vow 

"And loves you not, you should be glad that you 

from him are free. 
So summon up your pride, my girl, for Paul is 

pledged to me." 

Her heartless words did craze me so, with deadly 

hate I cried: 
"My curse is on you from the day that you become 

his bride !" 

He followed her across the sea, and they were wed 

that year. 
I tried to drown my sorrow. Then began my mad 

career. 

And through it all I thirsted for revenge, for I 

had sworn 
That Paul De Vere should suffer all that T for 

him had borne. 



And Other Poems. ' 8i 

"The mill of the gods grind slow/' and time crept 
on apace; 

By chance I learned that Paul De Vere was stay- 
ing at this place. 

Seclusion and the mountain air he sought for his 

weak bride, 
And so I, donning this disguise, came here, a 

mountain guide. 

A summer spent here long ago, I'd learned each 
path, and now 

That knowledge should my servant be till I re- 
deemed my vow. 

And so I saw them once again — she frail and yet 

more fair, 
And he so watchful, worshiping like devotee in 

prayer 

Before his shrine ; and every look he gave her fired 

my breast 
With deadlier hate, and very soon my soul was 

put to test. 

My lady hoped, in secret, to climb the mountain's 

side. 
To prove a woman's courage, and I must be her 

guide. 



82 "In the Land of Fancy" 

We'd gone but half the distance when a storm 

swept o'er the sky; 
I told her I had lost my way, and left her there — > 

to die ! 

This way and that I led her, in feigned dismay 

and fear; 
Though loud she called in terror, I knew that none 

could hear. 

"Oh, Paul, my husband, hear me! Is this the 

path, guide, say? 
Oh, will you lead me safely ? My God ! you've 

lost the way !" 

I heard her poor heart beating through quivering 

of her breath; 
I feigned to fall, hid in a cave and left her there — 

with death! 

"Ha I ha ! My scornful lady, loved wife of Paul 

De Vere !" 
I laughed as, through the tempest, I heard her 

shriek with fear, 

"My guide I He's killed ! Oh, Heaven ; dear 

Paul! Is no one nigh? 
Help! help! Oh, save, my husband! Will you 

leave me here to die?" 



And Other Poems. 83 

Ye gods of the storm of passion, I felt thy un- 
rivaled power, 

And nature, envious with hate, vouchsafed to thee 
this hour. 

But revenge was followed by remorse, and swift I 
sought her side; j 

The rain beat in her pallid face, and soon she 
must have died. 

I dragged her to the hidden cave, my cloak around 

her form; 
And soon her heart against my own was beating 

fast and warm. 

Through all the night I sheltered her, and calmed 

each rising fear. 
At break of day we heard a voice — the voice of 

Paul De Vere. 

In tones so anguish stricken, from heart so filled 
with fear: 

"My darling, my darling, that you should per- 
ish here ! 

"Speak! Speak, oh, lips so gentle, e'er responsive 

to mine own ; 
Forgive me, pitying Heaven, that she should die 

alone." 



84 "In the Land of Fancy" 

So crazed was he, he would not heed, or by his 

friends be led. 
My lady hears: "Poor Paul," said she. "He 

thinks that I am dead !" 

I held her back. "You must not go." "!^ot an- 
swer him?" cried she. 

"Not till I bid you." She grew pale, and, trem- 
bling, looked at me. 

"Move not from here till I return ; pray trust me, 

lady fair." 
She sweetly answered, "Sir, I will." And so I 

left her there. 

I hastened to the frenzied man; he cast on me a 

frown ; 
"Where is my wife ?" he cursing cried, and would 

have struck me down. 

With bared head, I shook down my curls and 

looked him in the eyes; 
"Do you remember Marguerite?" He staggered 

with surprise. 

"I see/' said he; "revenge is yours, nor mercy 

would I crave, 
Save for my bride." I smiled in scorn, and led 

him to the cave. 



And Other Poems. 85 

From silence of the dismal place there came no 
word nor sign, 

So well my lady trusted me. I said: "'VENGE- 
ANCE IS MINE ! 

" '1 WILL EEPAY ; SO SAYETH THE LORD.' 

I leave you, Paul De Vere, 
And I forgive you for her sake ; farewell ! Now 

enter — here." 

I saw him pass, and heard the cry of joy, the fond 

caress. 
Then crept away, that none might see my tears, 

my loneliness. 

Through gifts they tried to make amends ; for in- 
terview they prayed ; 

All I refused with this one line: "Be happy^ I 
am paid." 

But later on exposure told upon her weak, frail 

life. 
And Paul De Yere soon stood beside the deathbed 

lof his wife. 

She begged to see me, and I went and stood close by 

her side; 
She knew me now. "Am I forgiven? My poor, 

wronged girl/' she cried. 



86 "In the Land of Fancy" 

"Yes, yes, my lady, long ago." I knelt beside the 

bed, 
And kissed her hand. She faintly smiled. "I 

die content," she said. 

But Paul De Vere said not a word; I turned and 

left the room. 
I never saw his face again; the Lord had spoke 

his doom. 

Old friends call me "Mad Marguerite/' and cast 

on me a pitying glance; 
And wonder at this last strange freak, that ends 

this sad romance. 

The new friends — whom I like the best — speak of 

me with honest pride, 
And say: "A trusty fellow is brave Zib, the 

mountain guide." 

Thus life moves in the old grooves ; I like the place, 

and here I stay, 
And will perhaps till death steps in and shifts 

the scenes and ends the play. 

My lady's body had been borne across the sea by 

Paul De Vere ; 
Who from that day, so I am told, Imth never 

smiled or shed a tear. 



And Other Poems. 87 

Grim^ stony grief that clouds the soul and palsies 

heart and brain; 
Nor feels the frenzied pleasure which hate doth 

lend to pain. 

For love's sake living only in memory of the past ; 
His hair turned white as mountain's snows, his 
life is ebbing fast. 

And so life's drama nears the end. Ring down 

the curtain ! And my part 
Have I not acted well, my friends, as tragedy's 

queen in "Heart for Heart"? 

Think not the last act, I pray, but of my first — my 

girlhood sweet; 
And if you need a guide to-day, call on thy old 

friend Marguerite. 



MOTHER METHTJSELUM. 

Mother Methuselum needles a-click. 

Tongue like a clock that never runs down ; 

Mother Methuselum never was sick, 

Never had journeyed a day from the town. 



SS "In the Land of Fancy" 

"Medicine's poison/' she said, and, said she, 
"No doctor shall boast of the killing of me. 



Mother Methuselum knitted away, 

Her tongue and her needles a clickety-claek ; 
"Lawyers are fools," she was wont to say, 

And never a doctor but was a "quack." 
Her neighbors she scored, and said, "I vow 

It's a terrible world we live in now" 



Mother Methuselum knits no more; 

One day she was taken severely ill; 
The doctor summoned, arrived at her door, 

With quantum suficit to cure or kill. 
But when he got there, the doctor said. 

The woman was still, and certainly dead. 



Mother Methuselum's in her grave; 

Deserted the cottage upon the hill ; 
As people pass by they say "God save !" 

While to their marrow-bones creeps a chili. 
'Tis said if you place at the door your ear, 

The click of her tongue and her needles you'll 
hear. 



And Other Poems. 89 



WHAT I ENVY. 

I envy not the glory 

Of which the poet sings; 
I covet not the comfort 

That gold and silver brings. 

I envy not the beauty, 

Nor queen upon her throne ; 

Tho' any of this treasure • 
I would be glad to own. 

But just a little distance 
From where is my abode, 

I have a lovely neighbor — 
It's just across the road. 

And often I run over 
To visit for a while; 

I like to hear her chatter, 
I love to see her smile. 

If stormy is the weather, 
I'm very apt to say : 

"0, is it not depressing ? 
This awful, gloomy day!" 



90 "In the Land of Fancy*' 

"For me?" she answers sweetly; 

"I do not mind the gloom; 
Besides it's always pleasant 

Within my cozy room. 

"The contrast makes it brighter, 
On such a day as this; 

But then I'm ever busy, 
And sunshine do not miss." 

Let come what will, it never 

May change my neighbor's tune ; 

She's cheerful in December, 
She's happy in the June. 

For me when storms are brooding, 
And clouds the sky o'ercast, 

My heart of its own choosing, 
Will rise and face the blast ! 

The muttering thunders answer 
Forebodings of my soul ; 

Which listens for the cloud-burst 
Which o'er my head doth roll. 

The lightning rends the curtain 
Where futurity's concealed; 

Then to my startled vision 
Its secrets are revealed. 



And Other Poems. 91 

And when my strength is ebbing, 

And eyes can weep no more, 
The sunlight brightly streaming 

Where all was gloom before — 

E'en then I sit and wonder 
If the storms will come again; 

The rainbow of my promise 
Doth soon begin to wane. 

My hopes are like the story 

Of the golden eagles fair; 
In vain is all endeavor, 

I'll never reach them there. 

And this is what I envy. 

And covet every day — 
Contentment of my neighbor 

Who lives across the way. 



TEUE HEEOISM. 

The summer's birds have flown at last 
To seek a home in the far south-land; 

And not too soon. A cold, rough blast 
Comes sweeping down with ruthless hand. 

It scatters the leaves, the trees stand bare, 

Each woodland animal seeks its lair. 



92 *' In the Land of Fancy " 

The cows come shivering up the lane 
And cross the meadows dry and brown, 

The pheasant drums a low refrain 
Like muttering of a coming storm; 

The black crow sits rigid and gaunt, 

Grim harbinger of care and want. 

The father hews the winter's log 

As slowly sinks the setting sun, 
His weary wife with hurried jog 

Toils on at the work that's "never done," 
While the supper waits she winds the yarn ; 
There's mittens to knit and socks to darn. 

Her sad face lights with a tender smile 
As each little "tot" is tucked to rest ; 

0, what has the world of pain and toil 
For these, and the child upon her breast ; 

The good wife secretly wipes a tear, 

Then turns to her husband with words of cheer. 



0, men of science, heroes of wars, 

0, statesmen proud or orators grand, 

Your deeds sink low compared with her's 
Who faithfully by hearthstone stands; 

Who in sacrifice doth daily give 

Her life to others that they may live. 



And Other Poems. 95 



WHEN WE FIND MORE TIME. 

There's a future before us where every one 
May complete the tasks that are left undone; 
And strengthen the projects that now seem vain, 
And grander achievements may surely attain, 
When we find more time. 

The brain is a field that is fertile and fair, 
And many good schemes are blossoming there 
That are bound to mature and prove a delight, 
And everything planned will come out all right, 
iWhen we find more time. 

The letters unanswered, the books still unread. 
The calls on the sick, the graves of the dead 
So long now neglected, the debts yet unpaid. 
And hundreds of things are only delayed 
Till we find more time. 

The field full of weeds where the thistles now blow, 
The garden unyielding for lack of the hoe, 
You soon may behold the fields full of grain. 
And flowers in the garden may blossom again, 
When we find more time. 



94 "In the Land of Fancy" 

We know just exactly how we might build 
An elegant home, how the ground should be tilled ; 
We know very well how a fortune to make, 
But nane of these things we dare undertake 
Till we find more time. 

Yes, riches we'll have and of earth all the best ; 
And hours for pleasure and days of sweet rest ; 
So saying we plod and we strive and we slave, 
And never alas, till we rest in the grave 
Do we find more time. 



HOUSE FOR EEKT. 

Aye, 'tis for rent, at least they say 

My agent's advertised it so ; 
I only care to get away 

From 'neath its roof, for well I know 
A fearful curse, an awful doom 
Rests on each stairway, hall and room. 

The house is haunted ? Well, no, ma'am, 
I did not mean that any ghost 

Makes visit here ; that's all a sham ! 
The dead vex none ; they trouble most 

Who living, yet are dead to one 

Because of some great wrong 'twas done. 



A.nd Other Poems. 95 

Two years ago we two came here — 

And can it only be so long — 
I was much older, cross, severe, 

She like a flower, a bird, a song ; 
I thought my way alone would do, 
And she, tho' sweet, was willful, too. 

With servants living long alone, 
My wish was law, none to gainsay; 

And when her wish must rule my own, 
Some whim to follow every day — 

I chided her ; that was the end ! 

My heart could break, it would not bend. 

I know not why I tell it you, 

A stranger, madam, but alas ! 
My mind is shattered — if you knew 

What I have suffered — let it pass ! 
Beg pardon, ma'am, and must you go ? 
There's something else you want to know ? 

Do I regret she went away'? 

Regret it, madam ? Are you sane ? 
Regret that night o'ertook my day? 

A night I know may never wane? 
You're sobbing, ma'am ? Upon my life ! 
Take off that veil ; Lenore ! My wife ! 



96 "In the Land of Fancy" 

How did you dare, my life, my own ; 

"To beard the lion in his den ?" 
To see how sad, how old he'd grown, 

And think that you'd escape him then? 
A house to rent, and a heart, too, 
If only the tenant may be — you. 



THE POET'S SONG. 

"Sing me a song," the old man said 
To the poet who stood within his door; 

"Something by fire of your genius fed. 
Something we never have heard before ; 

Something that's startling, and grand, and true. 

But whatever it is it must be new." 

"Aye," said the poet, "I'll do my best"; 

He struck a note both wild and strange; 
Never before was thought expressed 

In words that took so wide a range ; 
Of marvelous things in a land that was new 
"Which eyes prophetic alone might view. 

He sang and sang of the far off shore. 

Until the old man said : "You waste your breath ; 
Yet of its people I would know more — 

Tell of their lives, their loves, their death." 



And Other Poems. 97 

''Nay/' said the poet, "that would not do ; 
Those themes are too old for a song that's new/' 

"Then sing no more," said he, "for I see 
Tho' new it is not a suitable theme 

For a poet's song, and never to me 
"Will the old again monotonous seem. 

Sing me the songs that are ever new, 

Of life and death and a love that's true." 



THE TRAPPEK'S LAMENT. 

Times have changed I will declar, 
Buffalo's sceerce, and deer and b'ar, 
In this kentry anywhar. 

Years ago in ole Kintuck, 
Any day with a little pluck 
You could kill a nice, fine buck. 

Turkeys wild were plenty, too. 
All on airth ye had to do, 
Call 'em and they'd answer you. 

Settlers come and soon the deer 
From the woods did disappear, 
And the turkeys fled with fear. 



98 "In the Land of Fancy" 

iThen a spirit of onrest 
Seized on me an' I thort best 
Fur to move my traps out West. 



Soon I got thar safe and sound, 
Bless me, but I thort I'd found 
Injun's happy hunting-ground. 

Gun or trap, sir, just the same. 
No time lost in hunting game — 
Luck fur me who ar' quite lame. 

Matters not who's driv to bay, 
Nation's stride we cannot stay, 
"Star of Empire" takes its way. 

Settlers soon would spile my fun, 
Then I'd shoulder up my gun, 
March t'wards the settin' sun. 

Allers left when settlers came, 
Ten times over jupt the same, 
Further west I followed game. 

Not another step move I — 
Couldn't unless I could fly, 
"Further West" means "swim or die. 



And Other Poems. 99 

Ole Pacific's waves du beat 
At this poor ole trapper's feet ; 
Yonder waves and skies du meet. 



"Yonder" must be huntin' ground. 
If I got thar I'll be bound, 
Settler'd soon be sneakin' round. 



HIS HEKITAGE. 

A bright, brave, helpful boy — always a man ; 

E'en when a babe upon his mother's knees 
His face showed thought ; his clear eyes seemed to 
scan 

Back to its dawn earth's hidden mysteries. 
As if by that fair garden he had stood, 

(To mankind lost, by sin, and desolate) 
And measured in his mind the ill and good 

Barred by the flaming sword above the gate. 
And said with soul that thrilled with hope and joy, 

Who felt the strength of limbs sound and blue- 
veined — 
"I would not crave the sweets that cling and cloy. 

To me an Eden lost is better than one gained." 



lOO "In the Land of Fancy" 

This is the man the Lord God made and gave 
To have dominion over land and sea ; 

Clothed in his manhood, yet naked as the slave 
Who cringing bends his back to poverty ; 

Nor gold hath he, nor heritage save that God- 
given — 
The spark divine that kindles in the soul, 

The aspirations pure and high as heaven; 
The mind to grasp, the will power to control. 

He sees the world rimmed by the vault of blue. 
And says : " 'Tis here life's battle must be 
fought." 

He nerves himself to live, to dare and do- 
Through him the Century's glories must be 
wrought. 

The mountain's fastness yieldeth up its gold ; 

The sea its jewels bring at his command; 
New worlds their varied beauties now unfold 

To him, joint heir of sky and sea and land. 
Each obstacle doth prove a lifting power; 

Each trial to his soul refining fire 
As step by step he climbs, each golden hour 

Doth bring him nearer to his heart's desire. 
And Life lifts high the chalice dripping sweet, 

And Love comes shyly nestling to his breast; 
While Fame piles high the garlands at his feet. 

The world of men rise up to call him blessed. 



And Other Poems. loi 



PART III. 

CHILDREN'S RECITATIONS. 



A LITTLE GIEL'S WISH. 

[Written for Encampment No. 90, U. V. L., and 
recited by Miss Sadie Sherman at the 27th Na- 
tional Encampment, G. A. E., at Indianapolis, 
on Wednesday night in Tomelsons Hall, to over 
7,000 soldiers. Ex-President Harrison presided 
and presented her to the audience. Governor Mc- 
Kinley was the speaker of the evening.] 

I wish I could be a soldier. 

But then I never can, 
I wish that I had been a boy, 

And then I'd be a man, 
And soon I'd be a soldier. 

Without a thought of fear. 
And first I'd be a captain 

And then a Brigadier; 



102 "In the Land of Fancy" 

And I'd march — march — march, 

With stately, martial tread, 
A big hat like a smokestack 

A-setting on my head. 

(Marches to martial music coming to a "face 
about" in military style.) 

Or perhaps I'd be a bugler, 

I'd sound the "reveille," 
And every sleeping soldier 

Would rise to honor me, 
All dressed up in my uniform, 

With buttons shining bright 
I'd stand up in the early dawn, 

And blow with all my might, 
I'd blow — blow — blow — 

So thrillingly and sweet 
Till all the hills around the camp 

The echo would repeat. 

(Imitating the blowing of the horn to music 
of the "reveille.") 

Or else I'd be a drummer-boy, 

I'd beat the rat — tat — too. 
And then I would not have to grow, 

For size, I think I'd do, 



And Other Poems. 103 

And tho' I would not like to see 

Folks killed ! Or think it right ! 
Yet if my comrades had to go, 

I'd lead 'em in the fight. 
And I'd beat — beat — beat — 

The rat — tat — tat — tat — too, 
And every rap to "Rebs" would say, 

"Look out ! We're after you !" 

(Imitates beating the drum to music of the 
"rat— tat— too.") 

Or else I'd be a cavalry man, 

And ride a big black horse. 
My hair a-flowing down my neck, 

A long moustache, of course, 
Gold lace upon my uniform. 

A plume upon my hat, 
And silver spurs upon my boots. 

Side arms and all of that. 
And I'd charge — charge — charge ! 

So awful I would fight; 
Skedaddle ! How the Rebs would run. 

Whene'er I came in sight. 

(Charges by raising aloft her hand as if with 
sword. Spirited music.) 



104 '^ ^^ the Land of Fancy" 

But since I cannot be a boy, 

Or ever be a man, 
Or ever be a soldier, 

I'll do the best I can. 
To Encampment No. 90 

I'll be a daughter, true, 
I'll love the starry banner. 

That is loved so well by you. 
And I'll pray — pray — pray, 

"Dear Lord, with loving hand. 
Guide the dear old Union veteran 

Who fought to save our land." 

(Kneels with folded hands. Music low and 
sweet. ) 



THE WOMAN'S EELIEF CORPS, FEOM A 
LITTLE GIRL'S STANDPOINT. 

My papa is a G. A. R., 

My ma a W. R. C. ; 
My brother is a "Son of V.," 

I don't know what I be. 

My mama says I am too old 

To go with her to Corps, 
Because I told all that I saw 

When I went there before. 



And Other Poems. 105 

I had to laugh to see them inarch ; 

Some fat and some so thin; 
Such funny raps and funny acts. 

When any one comes in. 

The president said: "You must salute"; 

And 0, how she did frown ; 
And three raps makes 'em all stand up, 

And one rap sets 'em down. 

And Mrs. Gill she sat right still, 

A trying to embroider ; 
Another woman who stood up, 

Said she was out of order. 

.One woman tried to speak her piece. 

And 0, how she did look, 
When she forgot, and could not find 

Her spectacles or book. 

One woman said: "Mrs. President, 

You talk so loud, I fear 
The Janitor — who's just outside. 

Most every word may hear." 

The president she made 'em laugh; 

"What he hears, Mrs. Barm, 
If he forgets as does this corps, 

It can't do any harm." 



io6 "In the I -and of Fancy" 

They had a woman there that day, 

A new one — Mrs. Thorps; 
And when she read her part she called 

The Eelief Corps a corpse. 

I just told Dr. Grimes the truth; 

Just what they did that day; 
And mama shook me just like this, 

And looked at me this way. 

But I like them,— the W. E. C. 

Do lots of good, I know; 
And I wish I was old enough. 

Or not too old to go. 

Some time I'll be Grand Army folks; 

And then besides all these, 
I'll make a new society, 

And run it as I please. 



MEMOEIAL DAY EEMEMBEANCE. 

(First Voice, Boy.) 

Plant the flag above his grave, 
Where the grasses softly wave — 
That is what his heart would crave 
Could he speak. 



And Other Poems. T07 

(Second Voice, Girl.) 
Step with tender tread and slow, 
Thinlc of him who lies below 
As he looked long years ago 
Fkished his cheek. 

(Third Voice, Boy.) 
Eager eyes with purpose bright, 
Steady arm nerved for the fight, 
Heart unfaltering for the right. 
Quickened breath. 

(Fourth Voice, Girl.) 
Think not of the fatal fray, 
Think not of the shadows gray, 
Think of honors won that day, 
Price of death. 

(Fifth Voice, Boy.) 
Think of all our country gained, 
By his sacrifice obtained. 
Country saved, and flag unstained, 
Peaceful years. 

(Sixth Voice, Girl.) 
Let his flag above him wave. 
Strew the flowers upon his grave 
Strong to die. Fret not the brave 
By idle tears. 



io8 "In the Land of Fancy" 

(All Together.) 
Honor we the true and brave, 
So above his lonely grave 
Flowers shall bloom and flag shall wave 
On this day. 



OUR HEROES ARE EIGHT. 

All honor to them for deed nobly done. 

Our Hobson deserves all his fame ; 
But then there were eight — we hear of but one 

Who earned by their daring — a name. 

There's valiant Montague, Chief Master of Arms, 
And Gunner's Mate gallant Charette ; 

And Murphy, courageous midst dangers' alarms, 
And Diegan, with lips firmly set. 

And Philips, and Kelly as brave as the best, 

As eager to do or to die ! 
And Clausen, whose valor when put to the test 

Was worthy of honor most high. 

Our heroes are eight of Merrimac fame, 

And this let us never forget; 
There's Hobson, Montague, one Murphy by name, 

And Diegan and dauntless Charette. 



And Other Poems. log 

And Phillips, and Kelly and Clausen's the rest. 

Of honor give each equal part; 
Their names will be found with the truest and 
best, 

Engraved on America's heart. 



THE BEOKEN VOW. 

"Please, grandmama," said Ted DeVar, 
"Just one more story — something true; 

Why don't you tell about the war, 
And Uncle Ted who wore the blue. 

"And was he brave? How did he die? 

0, grandmama, do I annoy 
You with my questions ? Now you cry ! 

0, I am such a thoughtless boy." 

"No, no, my child," grandmama said. 

And yet she blushed with shame to tell 
Of how her boy had been misled; 

Of how ignobly he had fell. 

But for his sake she crushed her pride, 
And gently, with a long-drawn sigh, 

She drew her grandson to her side. 
"How did your Uncle Edward die? 



110 "In the Land of Fancy" 

'''And was he brave? You ask of me; 

He fought on many a bloody field j 
Promoted thrice for bravery. 

Alas ! That he should ever yield 

"To that base foe who doth destroy 
The souls of those that fall ! 

Your uncle was its victim, boy — 
He died in drunken brawl ! 

"His promise he had given me, 

With hand close clasped in mine; 

That he would ever upright be, 
Nor touch nor taste of wine. 

"This vow he gave — I see his look 

As slowly his hand slips 
From mine, to lift the holy book, 

To press it to his lips. 

''A soldier's life is hard, at best ; 

Fatigue and hunger, heat and cold; 
The dreary march, the meagre rest. 

With all its train of ills untold. 

"For this I shield his name and pray, 
That God will save him by his power; 

His noble deeds — they must outweigh. 
The sin of that one evil hour. 



And Other Poems. iii 

"Wliat sadder fate than his; bereft 

Of life as well as fame; 
Who died in vain^ and dying left 

A blot upon his name. 

"And this embittered all my joy, 

Than mine no sadder lot; 
From his sad fate take warning, boy; 

Touch, taste and handle not." 



GRANDPA'S OLD CHUM. 

My grandpa he was in the war, — 

Grandpa and his old chum, 
Who lives down there at Engle Bar; 

It's fun to have him come. 
And grandpa shakes him by the hand, 
And pounds him on the back — my land ! 
'Tis fun to see them laugh, and I 
Have seen them laughing when they cry. 
When his old chum said he had been 
To the Encampment, and had seen 
Those fellows they call G. A. E., 
Who'd fought with grandpa in the war, 
Then grandpa cried. Tears in his eyes, 
He laughed and said, "'Now don't tell lies; 



112 "In the Land of Fancy" 

You say that you saw Tom McClure, 
I'd give a hundred dollars sure 
To see that cuss. And say, was he 
As jolly as he used to be? 
There's many a time we would have died 
Of home-sickness and sick beside. 
But for his monkey shines — and say, 
How he could sing ! Well, anyway 
He was a trump ! And you saw him ; 
I want to know ! And lanky Jim, 
George Jones and Bill and Bob Balloo; 
I wish that I had gone there too. 
What's that, old chum, I heard you say? 
You're going ? ISTo ! You're going to stay 
And lunch with me"; and grandpa he 
Just makes him stay; and ma and me, 
And little sister what's just come, 
He don't like as well as his old chum. 



LON-G AGO. 

On her lap gran'ma did hold me. 
Smoothed my apron down — just so, 

Had me fold my hands, then told me 
She was May Queen long ago — 
When they had May Queens, you know, 
Long ago, long, long ago. 








I went fishin 

I caught two— about so long. 



And Other Poems. 113 

Gran'ma's hair is thin and so white, 

And her face is — puckered so; 
But she's sweeter by enough sight 

Than some younger folks I know. 

Don't you see how dandeli'ns blow 

Turn their gold all into snow? 

Gran'ma's hair — it done just so 

Long ago, long, long ago. 



Hair was golden like the sunlight. 
Eyes were blue and cheeks were red; 

And her skin was smooth and so white — 
That is just what gran'ma said. 
Dressed in white from tip to toe. 
Golden curls and cheeks aglow. 
She was May Queen long ago, 
Long ago, long, long ago. 



Just like fairies in green bowers, 
Singin', dancin' on the green; 

Picking out the brightest flowers, 
For to deck their little queen. 
Where the daisies thickly grow. 
Lads and lassies round they go, 
Dancin', singin', bowin' low 
Long ago, long, long ago." 



114 " ^'^ the Land of Fancy" 

Gran'ma stops. "I'm tired," say she. 
"Now run away, dearie," and I go. 

Wonder what it is she sees now, 
Lookin' far off and sighin' so; 
An' I hear her whisperin' low: 
"Polly, Betsey, John and Joe; 
Gone, all gone, so long ago, 
Long ago, long, long ago." 



A TOUGH ONE. 

(Written especially for Charles T. Grilly, Enter 
tainer.) 

My ma she took me this spring 

To see my uncle — did you know 
He's named for me? Bet anything 

He is. His name is Joe. 
Such fun we had ! hut oh, my legs 

Wuz nearly off ! that's right ; 
A chasin' pigs an' huntin' eggs 

From momin' until night. 
I rode up on a load of hay, 

And I went fish in' — I caught two 
About s-o long — well, anyway 

I caught 'em, 'at's enuff to do 



And Other Poems. 115 

'Ith just a pin an' cork, an' string 

An' John a talkin' 'ith all his might, 
An' sayin' I wouldn't ketch a thing. 

An' scarin' 'e fish w'at come to bite. 
John's their hired man. He's awful rough. 

He f rowed me off 'n a load 0' hay ; 
He said 'at it would make me tough — 

I guess I's tough enuff anyway; 
So uncle said, he said to ma: 

"That kid's a tough," an' ma said : "Pooh ! 
He's just exactly like his pa — 

He gits it honest, w'at can you do ?" 
An' pa he says: "I guess that's so; 

He takes his meanness all from me; 
I'm gettin' better ; an' fur as I know. 

You ain't lost any at all," said he. 
Land ! ma was mad. That's nothin' tho' — 

Ma's awful good, she is; sometimes 
She has to lick me, then you know 

She feels so bad, an' cries an' whines. 
An' says: "0, Josie, don't you know 

It hurts me wuss'n it does you 
To be obliged to punish you so? 

But then 0, dear, w'at can I do!" 
"Why, jes don't think about that," sez I, 

"Fur I don't care no more'n dirt 
About that lickin' — I only cry 

To make you thinh I'm gettin' hurt." 



Ii6 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Then ma feels wuss. But I'm afraid 
If I don't strike right out an' go, 

I won't see that street parade 
And make a sneak into that show. 



EUTH TO HEE TEACHEE. 

I love my birdie and my doll; 

I love my kittie, too ; 
I love my parents best of all, — 

And next best I love you. 



WHEN GEANDMAMA WAS YOUNG. 

When grandmama was young, she said 

That children didn't do 
As they do now, they didn't talk. 

And tell all that they knew. 

They only spoke when spoken to. 

Sit still and never stirred; 
If I'd lived then, I'd never got 

A chance to say one word. 



And Other Poems. 117 

For my mama she talks so fast, 

That papa often sighs, 
And says when she's around he can't 

Get in a word edge-wise. 

When grandmama was young, she said 

She knew when it was dark; 
And with the chickens went to bed; 

And got up with the lark. 

The children then were so polite, 

When walking on the street. 
Boys doffed their hats, girls curtsied 

To all they chanced to meet. 

They said, "I thank you," and not t-h-a-n-k-s, 

In such a drawling tone; 
They did not loll around as if 

They could not stard alone. 

They didn't dance McGinty then, 

Kick out their feet, 0, no; 
Folks never would got over that. 

It would have shocked them so. 

They didn't dance the skirt dance. 

And throw the crowd a kiss; 
But glided like a fairy sprite. 

Their heads erect, like this. 



Ii8 "In the Land of Fancy** 

For weeks before 'twas Christmas, 

So good they had to be, 
Or else they would not got one thing, 

Or had a Christmas tree. 



They knew the worth of money then ; 

Were so proud of a cent; 
For any gift were thankful. 

And with it were content. 



They didn't sing such silly songs, 
As Bessie Blake and I, — 

But "I want to be an angel," 
And "Kind words never die.'* 



I would not like such little folks, 
Nor like the songs they sung; 

I guess that none of them growed up, — 
Good children all die young. 



I read that in my Sunday school book. 

And Bessie Blake and I 
Said we would not be good like that, 

For fear that we might die. 



And Other Poems. 119 

WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES. 

(Harry.) 

When Christmas comes my brother Fred 
And I are each to have a sled, 
So papa says. To all good boys 
Old Santa brings both books and toys, 
When Christmas comes. 

(Paul.) 

I know my mother is too poor, 
To bny us toys, but I am sure 
She'll have for us some nice warm caps, 
Some mittens, and st)me shoes, perhaps, 
When Christmas comes. 

(James.) 

I wrote old Santa Claus to bring 
To me a drum, and everything; 
A train of cars to run by steam. 
And all of which I think, and dream, 
When Christmas comes. 

(Willie.) 

You greedy boy ! You want it all ; 
I only want a top and ball; 



I20 "In the Land of Fancy" 

I want what Santa Clans can spare 
When other boys have had their share. 
When Christmas comes. 



(James.) 

I only wrote old Santa Clans 
To bring me all those things, because 
I want to give aivay some toys, 
To Paul, and other widows' boys, 
When Christmas comes. 

(John.) 

That's right, my chum, 
With fife and drum. 

And singing tops we'll make things hum ; 
Divide our toys with other boys, 
And won't we make a sight of noise. 
When Christmas comes. 

(All.) 

When Christmas comes to you and me, 
Bid every selfish thought to flee ; 
Unselfish hearts and deeds, and then, 
*Teace on earth, good will to men," 
When Christmas comes. 



And Other Poems. 121 



CHILDEEN'S DAY. 

Bring the flowers for children's day; 
Children — human flowers are they; 
Tender buds that need our care, 
Ere the full blown rose is there. 

Bring the sunshine of your smile, 
Lighting up their hearts the while. 
Bring your prayers, like incense given 
Pointing their pure souls to heaven. 

Bring the words of love that's meet 
For their aspirations sweet; 
Tender thought and tender word. 
For these chosen of the Lord. 

Then yourself shall better grow ; 
"Like unto a child," you know. 
Blest for you the children's day. 
If a child shall "lead the way," 

This one day is set apart. 
For these blossoms of the heart; 
Bless and guide them, Lord, we pray, 
Keep them pure as flowers of May. 



122 "In the Land of Fancy" 



THE FOUETH OF JULY. 

Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! 
Out of his bed and out of his room 
Hurries our Frank as he hears the noise 
Of the guns and the loud hurrahs of the boys ; 
Smell of burnt powder upon the street. 
Fizz of the fire-craekers under your feet, 
With star-spangled banner a-waving on high. 
With fife and drum and whoop and cry, 
Hurrah ! Hurrah, for the Fourth of July. 

Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! 
Somebody heard the crack of doom ! 
Cannon exploded and struck him dumb. 
Took off his finger and likewise his thumb, 
Some other fellow a-standing nigh. 
Got a burnt face and lost an eye. 
Fire bells are clanging, the sky gleaming red. 
Where urchins threw fire-crackers under a shed ; 
Still they are shouting and still they cry : 
Hurrah ! Hurrah, for the Fourth of July. 

Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! 

Freedom can't breathe without plenty of room; 
God bless our boys so brave and so fair. 
Spark of true patriotism is there; 



And Other Poems. 123 

Blood in their veins of patriot sires 
Birthday of freedom forever inspires! 
It rings in their voices, it gleams in their eye, 
In vain the attempt to check it if we try ; 
With peace in our borders, flag floating on high, 
Hurrah ! Hurrah, for the Fourth of July. 



IN THE COUNTEY. 

Quaint little Euth of Boston town. 
Had never yet seen the country so fair, 

Till kind Aunt Mary just carried her down 
To the land of flowers, and fresh, pure air. 

Her thin cheeks rounded, and turned as red 

As the apples that hung by her window sill ; 
And early she rose from her snowy bed. 

And wandered away at her own sweet will. 
The grasshoppers breakfasting on the grass. 

Go clackety-clock before her feet, 
They're dropping their dishes to let her pass; 

And the cricket is sawing his wood in the wheat. 

The frog that was sunning himself on the log, 
Doth answer his wife with an angry flop; 

As grumbling he drops in the dirty bog. 
To breakfast on spiders and tad-pole chop. 



124 "In the Land of Fancy" 

The birds are calling their young to dine 
On berries fresh gathered from woodland bower ; 

iThe bees are drinking the golden wine 
From the waxen cup of the trumpet flower. 

The ants are swarming above the mill, 

With grists of meal in sacks so white ; 
Sweet voices like music come over the hill, 

From a woodland nymph or a fairy sprite. 
A wook in the ground by the scraggy haw, 

Is beating his drum with a rub-a-dub-dub; 
And ten old crows with a funeral caw. 

Are calling their mates to church on a stub. 

A breakfast is waiting her fit for a queen ; 

And kind Aunt Mary to welcome her there; 
Euth tells her of all she has heard and seen, 

In her early walk in the morning air. 



JOHNNIE'S DREAM. 

Jim Blake struck me and called me names, 

And that night in my bed, 
I dreamed I was a great big king; 

A crown upon my head. 



And Other Poems. 125 

And sitting on my throne I saw 

Jim Blake pass by that way ; 
He didn't know me and I said: 

"Your King you must obey." 

And then I said : "Go, bring to me 

A drink in silver cup ;" 
And when he did, I laughed and laughed 

Until it waked me up. 



DILLY-DALLY. 

Dilly-Dally, Dilly-Dally, 

It is a common name ; 
You'll find them in the alley, 

And on Broadway just the same. 

And sure, my friend, you can't depend 

Upon a word they say ; 
They'll promise you, but never true 

To promises are they. 

"What a pitf , what a pity, 
In the country, in the city. 
On the broadways, in the alleys 
There's so many Dilly-Dallys. 



I2"S "In the Land of Fancy" 

A train was wrecked with loss of life 

Because a flagman tarried; 
A groom was late, his would-be wife 

Another man had married; 
A thousand things which mishap brings 

To you I might relate; 
And say: "The blame clings to the name, 

It's Dilly-Dally's fate !" 

What a pity, what a pity. 
In the country, in the city. 
On the broadways, in the alleys 
There's so many Dilly-Dallys. 



JOHNNIE'S CHRISTMAS. 

Papa and mama, and baby and Dot, 
Willie and me — the whole of the lot 
Of us all went over in Biraberlie's sleigh, 
To grandmama's house on Christmas day. 

Covered with robes on the soft cushioned seat, 
With heads well wrapped up and hot bricks to our 

feet. 
And two prancing horses, tho' ten miles away. 
The ride was quite short, on that bright Christirz-s 

day. 



And Other Poems. 127 

When all were tucked in and the driver said "Go !" 
The horses just flew o'er the white, shining snow; 
The town it slipped by us and meadow and tree, 
And farm house till grandmama's house we did 

see. 



Grandmama was watching for us, there's no doubt ; 
She soon come to meet us, and helped us all out ; 
And kissin' and huggin' said how we boys growed, 
And big as our papa we'd soon be^ she knowed. 

A.nd Dot she called handsome and said : "Ah ! I 

guess 
Grandmama's woman has got a new dress." 
And said that the baby was pretty and smart ; 
"Dod b'ess it and love its own sweet 'ittle heart." 

And 0, the red apples, and pop-corn on strings ; 
And balls of it, too, and nuts, candy and things ; 
And 0, such a dinner and such pumpkin pie; 
I eat and I eat tUl I thought I would die. 

And grandmama urgin', "l!Tow, Johnnie, my man, 
I wants you to eat ; just eat all you can." 
When I eat all I could then I eat a lots more, 
And I didn't feel good as I had felt before. 



128 "In the Land of Fancy" 

At last it came time for us all to go back. 
And into the sleigh again, all of us pack; 
With grandmama kissin' and sayin' good byes, 
With smiles on her lips, but the tears in her eyes. 

' We seemed much more crowded, and Bimberlie's 
sleigh 
Kept jerkin' and hurtin' me most all the way ; 
The robes were so stuffy I couldn't get breath, 
And Dot and the baby most squeezed me to death. 

All night I kept tumblin' and tossin', ma said, 
And frowed all the cover half off of the bed ; 
I dreamed of roast turkey and pop-corn and pie. 
And fruit cake and candy, piled up to the sky! 

And I dreamed I was sick and just lookin' at it, 
A wantin' and yet I could not eat a bit ; 
And grandmama urgin', "Now, Johnnie, my man, 
I want you to eat, just eat all you can." 



THE BOASTER. 

Who likes the boaster's blustery way, 
Who's all for show and grand display ; 

Who talks about his looks and clothes. 
And brags about how much he knows. 



And Other Poems. 129 

Who tries to stretch a half-head higher, 
The "looking big" his main desire. 

Who condescendingly doth bend 
When asked a favor by a friend. 

As if to say : "I'd think you'd see 
How unlike other boys I be, 

"/ am a man." 'Twould give me joy 
To see this little man a boy. 



CHEW AND CHAW. 

The other day old Mr. Drew- 
Was talking to my pa, 
And soon he said, "Give me a chew." 
So pa gave liim a chaw. 
Just then my pa he took one, too. 
And soon they both began to chew. 

So then I said, — like Mr. Drew 

When talking to my pa, — 

To our hired man, "Give me a chew," 

And he gave me a chaw ; 

And then I chawed, and if you knew. 

How sich I was, you'd never chew. 



130 "In the Land of Fancy" 



CHILDEEN AT PLAY. 

"Let's play we're keeping house," said Bess ; 

"And first, I'll visit you;" 
And Minnie answered, "Well, all right j" 

And to her play house flew. 

"Come here, Louise, no fooling now; 

Sit right still in your chair;" 
She said to her large waxen doll : 

"I've got to comb your hair. 

"A visitor is coming soon, 

Now do' as you are told; 
When asked to play the pi-an-o. 

Don't say you've got a cold. 

"I'm glad the baby is asleep, 

Dear me, she's coming now; 
Why, Mrs. Smith, how do you do;" 

With a long, sweeping bow. 

The visitor returned the bow; 

"I'm well, thank you," she said; 
"That is just now, but all last week, 

I was most sick a-bed." 



And Other Poems. 131 

"Too bad/' said Minnie; "my husband's ill, 
He's been at home all day, 
And such hard times, what we will do, 
I'm sure I cannot say. 

"I hope he will be better soon ; 

But how do you like my dress ?" 
"It's beautiful — indeed it is, 

You've such good taste," said Bess. 

"Thank you, — but must you go, my dear ? 

So short a call on me ?" 
"I've got some errands yet to do. 

And must get home for tea." 

"And nitist you go ? Please come again, 

When you can longer stay;" 
iPolitely Mrs. Smith replied: 

"Thank you, I will, good-day." 



EAEL'S DEEAMS. 

"When all is dark, I go to bed, 

I close my eyes and see 
Such pretty flowers and people, too. 

And things that frighten me. 



132 "In the Land of Fancy" 

I wish that it was not a dream, 

When on the cars I fly 
To grandmama's, who kisses me, 

And gives me pumpkin pie. 

But sometimes when I am asleep, 
I see a spook, — I scream. 

Which wakes me up and then you bet 
I'm glad that it's a dream. 



THE BIRDS' CONVENTION. 

Mary brought the news to me; 
Over on the linden tree 
Birds held their convention; 
She knew not their politics, — 
But she thought two factions fixed 
The same date, thus getting mixed. 
Caused the wild dissension. 

Only this my Mary knew, 
Beaks did tear and feathers flew, 
Every leaf did quiver ; 
Mary said she never stirred 
Through the tumult, till she heard 
Sudden splash, and saw dead bird 
Floating down "salt river." 



" Dropping like snow-flakes out of the sky 
Plump to the ground the snow-birds fly." 



And Other Poems. 133 



A DILEMMA. 

Come, ittie dirl an' p'ay wiv me 
I'll div '00 my doll to teep ; 

My mamma is don away, 
'E nurse is fas' as'eep. 

Wite in 'e stweet's a nice sof pace 
To mate mud pies for '00 ; 

My foot is fas', 0, see my face; 
Turn he'p me out, 0, do ! 

My shoe is off, my stottin's wet. 
It's dettin' worse an' worse ; 

An' there's mamma — an' now '00 bet 
She'll div it to 'at nurse ! 



SILVEE-LINED. 

Dropping like snowflakes out of the sky. 
Plump to the ground the snow-birds fly. 

What do they care for a land of bloom ? 
Chipper and happy in storm and gloom. 



134 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Bringing with force this saying to mind : 
"There's never a cloud but is silver-lined." 

Typical they of a specie of man; 
Built very much on the very same plan. 

Who in the face of misfortune will sing, 
Spending his last pence just like a king; 

Flipping it down as if millions he swore 
Were his for the asking — aye, even more — 

Giving its price to one asking for it, 

Not less rich in purse, but poorer in grit. 

"Dead broke" in pocket and yet ringing clear 
The clink of pure metal in words of good cheer. 

God bless him and multiply ever his kind, 
Who looks on the side that is "silver-lined." 



LITTLE ROSE. 

With grandmama's bonnet on her head, 

Her glasses on her nose, 
And mama's old shawl for a train, 

A callin' went our Rose. 



And Other Poems. 135 

Just four years old, the little tot ; 

"Dood day, my dear," said she. 
When kind Aunt Jane came to the door; 

"I'm tired as I tan be. 

"I walked so fas' — ^my dollie's sick — 

An' I fought I'd ast you 
To have your Pete the doctor b'ing, 

An' see w'at he tan do 

**To mate her well, for I tell '00 

She's jes 'e worstest off ; 
She's dot 'e measles an' 'e mumps, 

She's dot 'e hookin' cough. 

"She's got a col' right in her head, 
Her toof aches awful bad ; 
She's sick 'e worst of any child, 
'At ever I have had. 

"Dood-bye, for I mus' go right back, 

For if my Anna Bell Lee 
Should fin' out 'at her muzzer's gone 

Much worser she would be." 

"Good-bye, good-bye," said kind Aunt Jane ; 

"God bless its mother heart," 
She adds while watching through her tears, 

The little one depart. 



/ 3 



-V^ 



IN MEMORIAM. 



'■■■j ^ ' M Eigrmrsirr-* 



0, winds that moan above the mound, 
And shift the clouds in circling skies- 

Nowhere so sad, so weird the sound 
As where my martyred Hero lies. 



138 "In the Land of Fancy" 

OUR BOY— OUR HERO. 
I. 

OUR BOY. 

On the threshold of his manhood, with his cleai; 

and earnest eye, 
Doth he scan the purple distance where his aspira- 
tions lie; 
With no hlight upon the budding of his youth so 

pure and fair, 
With a mind whose high attainments are in one 

so young, so rare; 
With his health of mind and body, why may he 
i not attain 

All that' honest, brave endeavor in recompense 

may gain? 
0, dear eyes with steadfast purpose gazing where 

the shadows rest, 
Is not wealth and honor waiting, love to nestle in 

thy breast? 
There is need of thy strong manhood in the world 

of struggling men, . , ^ 

For thy counsel is worth having, if by vcnr^ t^Ai, 

by pen. | 




Our Boy. Our Hero. 



And Other Poems. 139 

There is need of thy true friendship and full 

many know its worth, 
iThere is need, God knows, of more like thee, the 

flower of all the earth. 



II. 

OUR HERO. 

Was it God that sent the message with its mean- 
ing sealed by fate? 

Would no hand stretch forth to bring him back 
before it was too late? 

Question not His plan and purpose — ^but the in- 
struments are we 

In his hands to serve the ages; life is price of lib- 
erty I 

God doth heal the heart that's broken, and the 
rain of bitter tears 

Bringeth forth the grain that's golden garnered 
for the future years. 

Life is not in living longest, and the heights which 
some attain 

Are not reached by great endeavor, but by one 
swift span of pain. 

Lived "our Hero" in the moments more than some 
may live in years. 

In the glory of that living find we balm for all 
our tears. 



140 " In the Land of Fancy" 

And remembrance brings us ever not a word or .' 
deed that mars * 

All the glory of his living in the life beyond the 
stars ! 



MY BOYS, 

(Affectionately dedicated to the members of 
Charles 0. Baer Camp, No. 38, Spanish- 
American War Veterans.) 

Mine, by the love you bear mine own, 
The comradeship born of the "blue;" 
Not ties of flesh and blood alone 
Attune the heart to beat more true. 
Mine by the name your proud Camp bears, 
Mine by a mother's tears and prayers. 

As yet — as yet I dare not come 

To clasp the hands so gladly given; 

The thought that his dear lips are dumb — 

The sight of you — 0, pitying heaven ! 

You in your manhood's bloom and pride, 

And he not standing by your side. 



And Other Poems. 141 

A motlier's heart, what it must bear ! 
Wh&t tears of sorrow flood her eyes 
Who sees her best pass from her care. 
To give his life in sacrifice ! 
At sight of flag, her soul distressed, 
She shrinks from those she loves the best. 



But what are broken hearts compared 
To country's gain that else were lost? 
Great things were won by him who dared 
To bare his breast nor count the cost ! 
Your courage was the kindled fires 
Inherited from your patriot sires. 

The tiny seed within the mold 
Unnoticed lies; the soft rains beat 
Till it is hidden ; the young and old 
May trample it with careless feet; 
In time this seed, a spreading tree, 
Will "monarch of the forest" be. 

So in the years your brave deed lies ; 
This century wanes and dawns a new; 
The millions who their freedom prize 
Will give the praise that is your due; 
For time will bring the love and fame 
That ever crowns the hero's name. 



142 "In the Land of Fancy" 

God bless my hoys — nor will you know 
The tender thougkts which in my heart 
Shall follow you where'er you go; 
Your life of mine must be a part ; 
Your love for him, your comrade true. 
The link that binds my love for you. 



DREAM SHIPS. 

Black night is like a sea o'er which 
Doth sail the ships of poor and rich. 
Though none may know in all that throng. 
To whom those million ships belong; 
And none may know if o'er the main. 
Those sliips may e'er come back again. 

They only know when wrapped in sleep. 
Their own ships on that wondrous deep; 
They only see the ships that ride 
The waves for them, in wreck and pride. 
The ships are dreams, in joy or pain. 
They may some time come back again. 

My ships like birds with great white wings, 
Were laden each with precious things; 
In slumbers deep I tranquil lay, 
And watched them come and sail away. 



And Other Poems. 143 

I waked and smiled nor hoped to see 
Those fair dream ships come back to me. 

But one at last sailed not away, 

Nor left my vision night or day; 

My "Day dream ship" I named this one, 

Whose glory waned not with the sun. 

And never more on that fair sea. 

Did other ship e'er sail for me. 

At last in vain I scanned the sea, 
My "day dream ship" was lost to me; 
Through sleepless nights, my soul in prayer 
Cried out, "God save my ship so fair." 
My ship went down ! The cruel wave 
Hath yielded up a — new made grave. 



A DEEAM. 

In dreams I saw our warriors come, 
And endless line, with soundless drum, 
And noiseless step — with measure true. 
They passed me by in sad review ; 
Each bore a flag — in words of light 
This legend -flashed upon my sight: 
"For this we died !" Flag of the free ! 
How dearly bought is liberty. 



n 



144 "In the Land of Fancy" 



EXTRACTS FEOM POEMS. 

flag, from out thy folds I see 
The face of one that died for thee; 
Lest I might hate thee, tenderly 

1 fold thee to my heart, ah! me, 
With anguished cry, "it must not be." 
Thank God ! Tho' heart and home's bereft, 
I still have love of country left. 



God of the land and of the sea. 
Thou witnessed all, to thee I cry; 
And must our best and purest die 
To set the suffering millions free? 



blessed dead! And for the soul 
Of him who for his country dies, 

O, Lord, is there a higher goal 
Than that won by his sacrifice? 



To sleep and sleep, forever sleep; 
No more to wake, no more to weep ; 
To sleep and sleep through all the years, 
Oblivious to life's joys and tears; 



And Other Poems. 145 

To miss the joy — to miss the pain. 
To miss the loss— to miss the gain ; 
When life is young, nor troubles deep 
Were it not best to sleep, and sleep? 



If not a drop of blood were spilled \ 

For thee, proud land, nor life were given, | 

Our hearts were not one half so filled t 

With love of flag, or home, or heaven. 



No sound shall stir the slumbering breast 
Of him who found this silent rest; 
He gave his life — ^he wen the fame 
That hallows each dead hero's name. 



The sun sinks low, the dying flowers 
Are passing with the dying hours. 
The night is here, the night is long. 
Gone is life's light, gone is life's song. 
Death is but night, when passed away. 
Then dawns the light of eternal day. 



PART V. 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



A MESSAGE. 

The thought that I may send to you, 

Is like the feather from the wing 
Of soaring bird that cleaves the blue. 

So vague the meaning it may bring. 
But says my thought as says the plume, 

"I'm drifting on, through trackless ways;" 
And as the bird seeks land of bloom. 

So may we hope for happier days. 



TO MY MOTHER. 

My Mother: Thy name my lips repeat, 
Nor can I find the words that's meet 
To express the love and praise that's due 
To one so good and kind as you, 



148 "In the Land of Fancy" 

From me that praise its tribute brings 
In all unselfish, lovely things; 
In Summer's skies if clear and fair — 
I see your features mirrored there. 

In violets 'neath the woodland tree. 
Your gentle, loving eyes I see; 
In shadows of the departing day 
Your hair of soft and silvery gray. 

In noble deeds with self denied 
Your own sweet life personified; 
All things that's rare, heroic, true. 
To me their semblance find in you. 



MY FATHER. 

'K stalwart mountain lifts its crest 

Above the surging ocean's breast ; . 
The ocean's roar, and chafe and strife. 

Compare we to the "sea of life." 
In mountain rising from its side 

My father's life is typified; 
Above the dross that seethes and drifts 

In eternal calm his brow uplifts. 




i 



<i^ 




ki'- . -c) 



^^4? : 'fl.' ^'^m 



c^' « 



" Summer Idyl." 



And Other Poems. 149 



SUMMER IDYL. 

Quiver of heat o'er the meadow's breast, 
Glimmer of gold where the reapers rest — 

The drooping leaves hang breathlessly ; 
Vaporous clouds in the azure blue, 
Eadiant light where the sun shines through- 

The silver stream flows noiselessly. 

Stir of the winds in the quickened leaves ; 
Billows of gold in the unbound sheaves. 

The rippling rill moves restlessly; 
Dash of rain in the reaper's eyes, 
Lo ! With rainbow across the skies, 

Our thoughts melt into eternity. 



MEMORY'S FLIGHT. 

As memory and I to-day 
Flew backward o'er a darkened way. 
We saw nor tree, nor rock, nor shore, 
To mark where we had been before; 
The years of loss and pain and care. 
Were like a desert bleak and bare. 
O'er which we swiftly, wildly fled, 
Past graves of hope and joy long dead. 



150 "In the Land of Fancy** 

When lo ! the sound of tinkling rills, 
Come tumbling down the verdured hills; 
And through each silver streamlet run 
A thread of gold from rising sun. 
Between the hills on either side, 
A valley stretched both far and wide ; 
And now before my vision lies 
All things that make a paradise. 

And I am happy, for I know 

I've reached the land of "Long Ago," 

And lovingly I linger there. 

In search of all its treasures rare; 

0, skies so blue, 0, hearts so true, 

0, sights and sounds forever new ; 

0, land of youth, and love, and bloom, 

I lay this garland on thy tomb. 



LIKE A VOYAGER. 

Childhood merrily doth hide 
On a bright, sunshiny day 

In a boat securely tied 

In some beautiful, fair bay; 

Laughing loud in boisterous glee 

As the boat rocks on the sea. 



And Other Poems. 151 

Youth approaching cuts the rope. 
The boat speeds out. As ne'er before 

His heart beats high with joy and hope. 
Yet anxiously he hugs the shore. 

Till wide-spread scenes of rainbow hue, 

His soul with courage doth imbue. 

On dancing waves and bending skies. 

In rapture feasts his wondering eyes. 



Manhood strikes boldly from the shore. 
Nor wind nor tide his hand may stay ; 

The bay recedes as his swift oar 
Far out to sea bears him away ; 

With arm that's strong, heart beating liigh. 

With will to conquer or to die. 

Lightnings may flash, and thunders roll. 

Undaunted his aspiring soul. 



Old age holds forth a trembling hand, — 

With eyes half closed and passive brow, 
He waited long for cry of "land," 

Content his journey's end to know; — 
Nor longing eyes he backward cast 
O'er stormy waters he hath passed. 
But glad that now, the journey o'er; 
He's safely reached the "other shore.'* 



152 "In the Land of Fancy" 

CHEISTMAS MOEK 

How sad, how glad, 

The Christmas morn ! 

Some say, "To-day 

Dear Christ was born, 

And hope and mirth 

Flood all the earth ; 

Who would be sad 

This Christmas morn." 

How glad, how sad. 

The Christmas mom ! 
*'To-day/' some say 
Dear Christ was bom. 
But oh! He died; 
Was crucified ! 
Who could be glad 
This Christmas mom! 

Or glad, or sad, 

This Christmas mom, 
To some will come 
A joy new-bom. 
The fleeting breath 
To some bring death, — 
How glad, how sad 
.This Christmas mom. 



And Other Poems. 153 

WRECKED. 

Who shall judge the soul of him that died 
The igT3oble death of the suicide; 
Who bereft of all the world holds fair. 
Was plunged in the gulf of dark despair. 
Ah! God shall judge when the souls drift in 
Who were wrecked on the rock of "it might have 

been." 
0, the hand that reached with a prayer for bread. 
Which was dashed away with a stone instead ; 
0, the feet that strove the heights to gain, 
And were backward hurled to defeat and pain; 
He who made his heart shall judge his sin. 
Who was wrecked on the rock of "it might have 

been." 



EECONCILED. 

Ofttimes I wander in the forest wild. 
Away from all that's irksome to endure; 
Nor yet in vain for aid did I adjure 

Dame Nature, whose tempestuous moods or mild 

Doth find diversion for her soul-vexed child. 
Who trusts her love in mind may rest secure. 
That peace will be vouchsafed which doth assure 

With destiny a spirit reconciled ! 



t54 "In the Land of Fancy" 



MNEMOSYNE. 

0, Mnemosyne, I fain would roam 
With you into the far-off past; 

To that fair spot my youth called home. 
When not one cloud the sky o'ercast. 

With you ! With you ! Where cascades fall, 
Their lucid folds imprisoning light; 

Where shadows from the tree-tops tall, 
Are mimic trees in waters bright. 

But Mnemosyne, 0, pray make haste, 
Past years that brought but suffering; 

Their winding paths I'd not retrace, 
For shining gold or crown of king. 

Near by dark Lethe's waves are seen; 

I'll drink, and will forget, you know. 
All the sad years that intervene 

'Twixt now and where I wish to go. 

Now swift we fly, — and what's more swift 
Than memory when it takes flight; 

We pause where fleecy clouds adrift. 
Shut in the fairest earthly sight. 



I ', 



l^^V.'*/4J'^ 



i^ui^fc/' 



And shadows from the tree-tops tall 
Are mimic trees in water bright." 



And Other Poems. 155 

I drink from fountains crystal bright; 

I stand where purple hill-tops shine; 
My heart is free, my step is light. 

For all youth's buoyancy is mine. 

In shell-decked grottoes now I rest. 

Whose vine-clad opening none may see; 

I skim across the meadow's breast, 

Whilst joy and hope keep pace with me. 

I know the village school is out; 

I see my play-mates ford the stream; 
I hide, that they with laugh and shout 

Break not the transport of my dream. 

At rest on flowers with fragrance sweet, 
'Midst tangled ferns and sombre trees. 

With purling waters at my feet, 

With cooing birds and sighing breeze. 

Day-dreams I weave, and M'eb and woof 
Are gold and silver dazzling bright. 

A palace looms, its glinting roof 
One solid sheet of golden light. 

And up its lofty halls and down, 
My hero strides, consciously proud ; 

For never was a kingly crown 
To one more worthy it allowed. 



156 "In the Land of Fancy" 

His hair the blackness that doth fall 

When storm rides forth in midnight gloom, 

And wraps each star in inky pall. 
Then drops it in unfathomed tomb. 

And as his hair, his eyes are dark, 

Like ocean's depths, when thunders roll. 

His look, with love's electric spark. 
Has flashed its message to my soul. 

My glad heart soars with uncaged wings, 
To him whose voice awoke the mom; 

Creation smiles, a wild bird sings. 
And Heaven crowns a love new born. 

But Mnemosyne, must I go 

Back to my life of care and pain ? 

Forgive the thought, you may, I know, 
Some time take me with you again. 



THE POET'S SOUL. 

His soul's a bird that soars and sings 
In boundless space with uncaged wings, 
Whose tune must be the ecstasy 
Born of the joy which fancy brings. 



And Other Poems. 157 

His soul's a flower that doth unfold 
Its chalice filled with wine of gold; 
Whose nectar drips from inspired lips — 
We quaff the sweetness it doth hold. 

0, bird, 0, song, in fancy free 

That spurns this dull mortality. 

To wing its flight to land more bright 

Than earth-bound mortals e'er may see — 

We hear the song our lips repeat, 
With joy our clodden heart doth beat. 
We pluck the flowers in fancy's bowers. 
Which thou hast scattered at our feet. 



AUTUMN. 

As hectic flush on beauty's cheek 
Proclaimeth death is nigh, — 

As warning doth the crimson streak 
On rim of forest lie. 

Each passing breeze upon its wings 
Doth bear the dead away; 

Each rippling rill a sad dirge sings 
Of flowers doomed to decay. 



158 "In the Land of Fancy" 

The ripened fruit, the golden grain 
The husbandman doth store; 

In joy or pain the "loss and gain" 
He faithfully doth score. 

E'en so with life, the summer's days 

Do swiftly pass us by, 
And lo ! We look through Autumn's haze 

To see life's winter nigh. 

As color from the Autumn fades 
Death claims his own at last; 

Our good deeds and our bad are weighed, 
And balanced up at last. 

0, may the good outweigh the sin 
And this mandate be given: 

"Well done, good servant, enter in 
Unto the joys of heaven." 



DREAM OF THE WOULD-BE SUICIDE. 

From earth, its care and vexation 
His spirit did soar on swift wings; 

And paused for a moment's duration 
To note earth's beautiful things. 



And Other Poems. 159 

Nor sound, nor aught from earthly sphere, 
Could vex the soul while poising here. 

He gazed with rapturous vision — 

As his tears were dried away — 
O'er the fair, broad fields Elysian 

In the light of a perfect day. 
Ah ! Earth is heaven robbed of its jar. 
Heaven, if mortals were not there to mar. 

Seen like mirage on an arid plain 

Were mountains and sparkling springs, 

The billowy grass and golden grain. 
And flash of bright, cool wings. 

He regretted that ever he dared to soar 

Away from the world that was his no more. 

He could not go back, for loud and deep 

Was the vow he made that day, 
That never again his eyes should weep 

On that wicked world of clay ; 
So he opened the gate tho' well he knew 
One never went back who once passed through. 

Thus he passed the portal, a suicide ! 

Unfortunate wretch, who's never forgiven ! 
Between two gates that ever divide, 

And never unbar to earth or to Heaven ! 



l6o "In the Land of Fancy" 

Pausing there the spirit now lost 

On wings of despair was upward tossed. 



But only for tortures more vivid, I ween, 

Uplifted that he might see 
The beautiful earth so calm and serene 

From which he had set himself free. 
Then falling and falling, how long it did seem 
Till he awoke from the dreadful dream! 

Over his face the sunshine did fall. 
Which bade him rejoice and live ! 

In shame he turned his face to the wall 
And begged of the Lord to forgive — 

For the wicked, base vow to be forgiven, 

Thankful for earth and the hope of heaven. 



IN SYMPATHY. 

Sometimes when the day is bright, 
Tho' others may not see 

A shadow falls across my sight 
And dims the world for me. 

My startled heart it makes reply: 

"The sun is bright within the sky, 



And Other Poems. i6i 

All's clear below, above, 
But far away, 
In grief to-day 

Bows one you fondly love." 

How swift my soul doth fly; 

Its whisper did you hear? 
0, tell me do the clouds pass by, 

Dear one, when I am near? 
And do you chide the hand's caress, 
The kisses on your pale brow pressed? 

What grief may bring to thee, 
Tho' e'er so far. 
My peace shall mar 

And waken sympathy. 



BE NOT CAST DOWN. 

The path of fame it leadeth high, 
And over rough o'er-hanging rocks; 

One instant blotting out the sky 

It brings one up with sudden shocks. 

Or madly hurls them back! 

And oft and oft with tears and pain 
One treads the way all o'er again. 



i62 "In the Land of Fancy" 

But lie that dares to persevere 

Finds added strength with vantage lost; 
And press he onward without fear 

To gain the goal, whate'er the cost, 
And doth not courage lack, — 

Then he will conquer soon or late 

Will gain the heights in spite of fate. 



THE GAKDEN^ OF HER HEART. 

Yesterday — but yesterday 
In this garden it was May. 

Flash of sun and in the trees 
Gush of song birds' melodies. 

Passion flowers and roses bright 
Blossomed in the golden light. 

But to-day — but 0, to-day 
Desolation holdeth sway. 

Killed by wintry, cruel dart 
Are the blossoms of her heart ! 

Gone are birds and roses fair. 
Not a bud to blossom there. 



And Other Poems. 163 

Dazed she sits, in wild dismay 
This repeating: "Yesterday — 

"Could it been but yesterday ? 
In this garden it was May." 



A PERFECT DAY. 

Within my memory lives a day — 

Few lives hold such a one ; 
Ko hindrance fell across the way, 

No cloud obscured the sun. 

All night I watched. The fair day-break 

Showed skies a golden red, 
From which reflected in the lake 

A warm, rich beauty spread. 

A long straight path of shining gold 

Led to my paradise. 
Warm were the waves that erst were oold 

And blue the leaden skies. 

I knew the path — its name was love ; 

The waves were opportunity; 
The skies held hope, a radiant dove 

Which soared but this one day — for me. 



1 64 "In the Land of Fancy" 

I found the path, the silvery sheen 

Of waves had yielded up 
The joy they held ; all wreathed in green 

Life filled the brimming cup. 

I drank the draught, the sweetest yet, 
I turned, but hope had fled; 

The path was lost, the sun was set; 
The perfect day was dead ! 



ALONE. 



I passed where many were meeting. 
And quietly found there a place; 

I heard friends' voices in greeting 
And kisses fell cold on my face. 

I smiled when I saw others smile, 
I laughed at the jest given free; 

Acknowledged new faces the while 
Who friends in the future might be. 

But the music fell dull on my ear, 
Or rose in a discordant tone ; 

And yet while so many were near 
I felt that I walked there — alone ! 



And Other Poems. 165 



KIND WORDS. 

How sweet tlie smile but seldom given, 

The words but rarely said; 
The praise, alas ! too oft withheld 

Till after we are dead! 

Bobbed are poor mortals of that which 

If given e'er too late, 
Might shape the life for nobler deeds. 

And change decree of fate. 

We reck not of the souls that starve, 
The hearts that proudly break ; 

The nerveless hand that yet might carve 
A name for love's sweet sake. 

Too oft its meed of praise is writ 

On marble shafts that rise 
Above the heart that yearned for it. 

And broken 'neath it lies. 

So bless the words that bless the ear. 

And courage doth impart; 
We crave not fame, to us more dear 

The praise of honest heart. 



l66 "In the Land of Fancy** 

EECREANT THOUGHTS. 

E'en as a captive bird when free 

Doth seek its former nest, 
So do my thoughts, dear one, to thee 

Fly back again to rest. 
E'en as the bird finds nest bereft 

Of all that made it dear. 
They find thy heart hath little left 

To comfort or to cheer. 
They fly to thee from storms that beat, 

They have no place to rest, 
And cry to thee, "0, death were sweet. 

If sheltered on thy breast/' 



A NEW YEAR'S WISH. 

■And if magician, witch or seer 
Should come to me this dawning year. 
And say, "Behold, thine is the power 
To make one wish at midnight hour, 

''Which by black art shall granted be." 
If by your eyes I could but see 
What you wish for, by this decree 
My wish should bring it dear, to thee. 



And Other Poems. 167 

How I should watch each thought expire. 
The wish your words or look expressed, 
Should swiftly come at my behest, 

If fame, or wealthy or love's desire. 

And if I lingered yet a while — 
One moment, dear, tho' selfishly, 
I'm sure that you would grant to me. 

What I should prize the most — ^your smile. 



HOW THE SUMMER DIED. 

I saw her lingering yesterday, 

Her garments all in disarray; 

Her face was drenched and cold and pale, 

She shivered 'neath the wild, north gale. 

And when the night had passed away. 

Prone on her dying bed she lay; 

Her cheeks were flushed, her dreamy eyes 

Looked far beyond the azure skies; 

(The trees stood guard in robes of gold 

And crimson, rich in many a fold), 

There in the hectic flush of day. 

She breathed her last, and passed away. 



1 68 "In the Land of Fancy" 

EASTEE MORN. 

Forgei the pain and sorrow; 

Thongh darkness clouds the soul 
Night fades in the to-morrow — 

Press on towards the goal. 
The faith that will endure 

"Peace in believing" brings; 
The hope that's strong and sure 

Speeds forth on steady wings. 
No longer sit beside the tomb, 

Thy Lord hath risen from its gloom. 



SNOW AND SYMPATHY. 

In sackcloth and ashes Dame Nature doth sit 
And storm clouds now darken the sky ; 

The skeleton shadows through bare forests flit 
Where Autumn's fires flicker and die! 

The trees slowly give up their leaves to decay — 

Denuded of all that is fair, 
They stand with gaunt arms reaching day after 
day 

With a murmuring voice of despair. 



And Other Poems. 169 

The "beautiful snow" doth fill all the air 
With down like the breast of a dove; 

With swift, noiseless step, as babe's soul, as fair. 
It comes on its mission of love. 

It brings not the voices that make nature glad. 

Nor kisses that on her cheek burn. 
But it whispers the promise that makes her less 
sad, 

Of joys that shall swiftly return. 

It keeps the heart warm till Winter is passed, 
And then on some bright coming day 

It answer doth give to the whispering grass 
And silently stealeth away. 

So never a night so dark to the soul 
But the whisper of comfort and cheer 

Sustain till the clouds of night backward roll 
And the sunlight again doth appear. 



FEAR NOT. 

'Twas great to dare and die ! 
To know, in years to be. 
The heights put forth by thee, 

Should rise and pierce the sky. 



I/O "In the Land of Fancy" 

So we the twig may bend. 
But never see the rose; 
Graves point the way to those 

Who on and upward tend. 

And so we build upon 

The deeds of grander sires. 
Whose hearts' ambitious fires 

Burned, wrought and won ! 

We hold in memory dear 

Their valiant deeds and say: 
"Brave hearts, they led the way ;" 

Then murmur not, nor fear. 

Your sons and daughters, too, 
Heirs to a mighty trust, 
Will never be less just 

To your deeds and to you. 



THE DEEAMER'S HEART. 

Give me the heart that holdeth fast 
The joys, the songs of long ago. 

That finds in memory of the past 
A thought to set the soul aglow. 



And Other Poems. 171 

The faded rose, the ribbon blue, 

Hid iu the poet's escritoire. 
Brings to the heart forever true 

Sweet visions of the days of yore. 

For him there is no dead, dead past; 

Nor love nor life to turn to pain; 
From hopes that die joys that will last 

May swiftly spring to life again. 

The dreamer's heart doth not grow old; 

His life is as his visions be; 
What he hath had he still may hold. 

Now and through all eternity 



SOEROW. 

There was a time I shrank from it 
And turned pale with affright. 

And said : "Go back ! You may not sit 
Beside my hearth to-night !" 

Driven b}^ the elves, Hope, Joy and Mirth, 
Midst song and laughter gay, 

The unwelcome guest did quit my hearth 
And soon was far away. 



172 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Now sorrow never leaves my side, 
I raise no voice to free; 

Whate'er to me shall yet betide 
She'll share that fate with me. 



My face is pale, the falling tears 
Have bleached it cold and white; 

From out my life have slipped the years 
As stars fade from the night. 



You've seen the red flames leap on high 

With wild and lurid light? 
They faint, they shrink, at last they lie 

A heap of ashes white. 



And so my heart, e'en as the flame. 

It swiftly burned away, 
Then fainted quite and soon became 

A cooling lump of clay. 



And sorrow e'er must bide witK me, 

I'll not bid her depart, 
For where more fitting company 

For my poor, hopeless heart? 



And Other Poems. 173 



m DREAMS ALONE. 

Suddenly there fell a darkness; 

Storm-swept earth and clouded sky. 
Making it appear at midday 

That the night was drawing nigh; 
On the window panes sleet and snow 
Turned to fingers that to and fro 
Touched up chords dropped long ago. 

Skilfully did those same fingers 
Touch unerringly each string, 
Swept them lightly, lo ! I heard 

Songs that once I loved to sing; 
Lost were years of care and pain. 
Banished by the magical strain 
Which filled my heart with joy again. 

Sweetest memories enfold me. 

Slowly swaying in my chair, 
Soon a drowsiness stole o'er me 

Through the soft, warm, vapory air. 
How it happened I do not know. 
Transported was I through sunlit glow 
To beautiful scenes of 'long ago." 



174 " I^ ^^^^ Land of Fancy" 

Once again as in youth I stood 
On the brow of a purple hill. 
Back of me the shadowy wood, 

Far beneath the quaint old mill. 
Broad the meadows and darkly green, 
Eows of poplars of silver sheen. 
Fringing the waters that glide between. 

Fields of corn and wheat and rye, 

Orchards of apple and peach and pear; 
This the picture 'neath azure sky — 

Never another was half so fair; 
Framed was it by the hills of gold. 
Circling till their arms enfold 
This lovely spot of which I've told. 

Set in the midst of this paradise 

Gleams the homestead ivory white. 
Gazing on it with yearning ej^es. 

Swiftly I turn with wild dslight. 
Then my heart by forebodings tossed 
Feared that the vision might be lost 
That never should I the threshold cross. 

Through the gate with hurrying feet. 
Up the pathway bordered by flowers; 

Under the porch, 0, joy complete, 
Eecompense for clouded hours. 



And Other Poems. 175 

Pausing as tones fell on my ear, 
My father's voice in prayer I hear: 
"God bless the absent one so dear." 

"Amen !'" my mother's sobbing voice 
Answers in accents low and sweet; 
Aloud I cry : "Dear ones, rejoice ! 

0, turn your loving child to greet !" 
Then I awoke this truth to own 
That never except in dreams alone 
May I behold my childhood's home. 



THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. 

I've been seeking in vain for that which I found 
On a bright dimmer day long ago — long ago. 
'TA^as a fountain that sprang from enchanted 

ground — 
How I found it or lost it I'm sure I don't know. 
'Tis first easily reached, for straight it doth lie 
From the fount head of life, but when you've 

passed by 
And have tread the wild maze of life's intricate 

ways, 
Through sunshine and shadow and storm beaten 

days, 



176 "In the Land of Fancy" 

'And are fainting and soul-vexed, your steps drag- 
ging slow, 

Then you think of the grotto you passed long ago. 

Of its fountain and rest. 

Where cares ne'er molest, 

And you know that its bliss you will never more 
know. 



0, that beautiful bower on the bank of the stream 
Where the air castles loomed till they reached 

to the skies, 
Where fairies did flit and their white robes did 

gleam 
Whilst 'neath tresses of gold flashed their soft, 

dreamy eyes. 
And birds their sweet songs were caroling near. 
And splashed in the fountain so cool and so clear. 
Where blue bells bow low to the lilies of snow, 
And red berried myrtle in the green moss doth 

grow 
Making carpet like velvet, a couch for a queen. 
And the bright beachen leaves shut it in as a 

screen. 
But the whispering rills 
Talked to me of the hills. 
Of the faraway heights that I never had seen. 



And Other Poems. 177 

'And the spirit unrest it did lure me away; 

And love found me too, and did offer me wine ; 
I drank the mad draught and from that very day 

Nor peace nor contentment was evermore mine. 
When I reached the far hills then the rich purple 

light 
Quickly faded away from its mystical height; 
And again and again my wild, throbbing brain 
Was lured by mirage on the desolate plain; 
And I saw in my dreams the grotto of flowers 
With the fountain of youth enshrined in its bow- 
ers, 
And I know — like a star, 
That gleams from afar — 
It's a world that hath been but will never he ours. 



ONE DAY. 

A day so fair, a perfect day; 

Then let naught mar its bliss ; 
"The only one" I must not say 
Nor think for once of this. 

Like beacon through the gloom of night, 
So this bright day may shine; 

Upon my life robbed of its light 
And shed its ray divine. 



178 "In the Land of Fancy" 

To tihink of it will Lope inspire 
And lead as ne'er before; 

Within my heart as holy fire 
^Twill burn forevermore. 



THE COUSINS. 

Prom childhood I lived in the East, 
My cousin Jane the while 

Lived on the prairies — far away 
Out West, Oh, many a mile. 

Jane's mother was my only aunt 

Upon my mother's side. 
And Jane, she was an only child, 

Except one son who died. 

I am an only child myself. 

So it will be made plain 
How we, both being of one age — 

I loved my cousin Jane. 

She wrote me that her eyes were blue, 

"As blue as azure sides," 
And I had written her that I 

Had "just the blackest eyes I" 



And Other Poems. 179 

Her hair was ''golden as the sun," 

And mine "black as a crow;" 
She "five feet four," I, "one inch more 

In height," this both did know. 

And long before we were sixteen ; 

She'd written: "Can't you, dear, I 

Come see us soon ?" and I replied : 

"I hope to come next year." 

And so I did, but father's health. 

Ne'er good, was failing quite. 
And I must help to his support 

And do as best I might. 

It was so far to Cousin Jane's, 

And they'd much to endure; 
Sometimes they would get "quite ahead," 

And then the "crops were poor." 

And they must struggle hard to live; 

Alas, and such is life; 
At eighteen Jane had caught a beau. 

At twenty was a wife. 

I married, too, the self -same year, 

A schoolmate, Bertram Fee, 
And father died and mother came 

To make her home with me. 



i8o "In the Land of Fancy" 

She had poor health ; I was to her 
All that a child should he; 

But I had little time to write, 
And Jane wrote less to me. 

Just one year from her wedding day- 
She wrote : "Dear Cousin Clare, 

"We have a bahy — ^named for you — 
A girl both plump and fair." 

And soon I .had this news to send : 
"We're even now, 'tis plain, 

We, too, have got a little girl, 
And we have named her Jane." 

But ah ! six girls in twice six years, 

This was my lot, and she 
Had just one-half as many girls 

And boys that numbered three. 

My mother died and Aunt Marie — 
Jane's mother, old and gray — 

Came to her funeral, and we 
Met first on that sad day. 

She stayed awhile. When she returned 
I, weeping, said: "Tell Jane 

I hope to meet her once on earth, 
If never once again." 



And Other Poems. i8l 

Then, weeping, said my Aunt Marie: 
"God grant you may ; but hear ! 

Don't ever go when Jane is dead, 
If not before, my dear," 

"I won't— I can't," I wildly cried, 

Eemembering, as she did. 
The meeting of those sisters two — 

One 'neath the coffin lid. 

The years slipped by and Aunt Marie 

Long since had passed away, 
And Jane and I had never met, 

Yet both were old and gray. 

E'en now I ever picture her 
As young and tall and fair — 

The maiden with the azure eyes 
And curls of golden hair. 

One day this message came to me: 

"0, say, dear Cousin Clare, 
My son-in-law and wife will go 

To see the great World's Fair. 

"And they insist that I go, too ; 

Just think how good and kind ; 
I told them *no,' but if you'll go 

I yet may change my mind." 



i82 "In the Land of Fancy" 

That very day my husband said: 
"Say, Clare, I think that you 

And I, altliough a trifle old, 
Might see the great Fair, too." 

And so that's how it came to pass 
That I could not say "no;" 

Though it was very far from Maine 
To where we had to go. 

I wrote to Jane; the day was set, 
And place where we should meet; 

Dear Bertram said I'd lost ten years 
And looked "real young and sweet.' 

I know he flattered me, of course, 

I had a new silk dress; 
On Jane's account I tried to look 

Young as I could, I guess. 

Jane's daughter met us at the train. 
And, worried like, she said: 

"Poor ma was sick most all the way, 
In fact, she's now in bed." 

We soon were at the grand hotel ; 

In a few seconds more 
Were lifted up just as we sat 

Clean to the second floor. 



And Other Poems. 183 

"This is ma's room," the daughter said, 
"Please come right in, my dear," 

And then I heard a feeble voice : 
"My cousin; is she here?" 

I looked, and on the bed reclined 

A woman old and plain. 
With livid face, wild, faded eyes. 

And voice of querulous strain. 

"You be my cousin Clare, you say ? 

You're not, no such a thing ! 
My cousin Clare has rosy cheeks, 

Hair like the raven's wing. 

"I won't have no impostors here !" 
"Make haste!" the daughter said 

To some one near, "the doctor bring; 
Poor ma's out of her head." 

And so she was ; the doctor gave 

To her a potion small, 
And, dozing off, she, muttering said: 

"Not Cousin Clare at all. 

"Her hair was black — ^black as a crow, 

Eed cheeks, skin lily fair; 
And 0, I love her — love her so — 

My handsome cousin Clare f" 



i84 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Then I, half fainting and half-dazed, 
Sat muttering through my tears : 

"Is this what I have waited for 
Through all the weary years ?'* 

And later on I waked to find 

I, too, in bed did lie ; 
The doctor and my daughter Jane, 

And husband waiting nigh. 

"Dear mother, you've been very ill," 

My daughter Jane did say; 
"But you will soon be well enough 

For us to go away. 

'^e'll soon be home, we should have known 

Such journey was not wise;" 
"But Where's that woman ?" I replied ; 

"She with the faded eyes." 

"You dream !" John said, '^as it a dream ? 

I'm sure it can't be so !" 
And ever when I spoke of it, 

He*d say: "A dream, you know." 

And once again when grown quite strong: 

"I did see Jane," I said ; 
"Where is she now ?" and John replied : 

"your cousin Jane is dead!" 




When Autumn came whose breath 
changed all things new." 



And Other Poems. 185 

Then well I knew wherewith he spoke 

And calmly said: "I see; 
In that fair clime my cousin waits. 

And watches there for me. 

*^ut when she sees me I will be 

The cousin fair she knew; 
And she will have the golden curls. 

And eyes of azure blue." 

So Grod be praised, the blighted years, 
Forth brightest bloom shall bring; 

"0, grave where is thy victory. 
And death, where is thy sting?" 



A SUMMER'S SACRIFICE. 

Through what sweet, winding ways 

My feet hath strayed, 
Through all the Summer^s days 

That lingering stayed. 

Then Autumn came, whose breath 
Changed all things new ; 

Wove Summer's garb of death 
Of brightest hue. 



i86 "In the Land of Fancy" 

His but the hectic flush 
That death precedes ; 

The cheek upon whose blush 
The canker feeds. 



Then Autumn died and I 
Am filled with woe, 

For all my treasures lie 
Beneath the snow. 

My heart no more shall rise 

Above the rifts ; 
A Summer's sacrifice 

O'er which snow drifts. 



MAD LIZBETH. 

No sound doth stir the stillness of the night, 
Mad Lizbeth stares through steel-barred window 
pane; 

Her wild eyes seem to pierce the gruesome light 
That falls from half moon now upon the wane. 

Her hopes are dead, yet through the silent night 

She watches for tlieir ghosts so wan and white. 




" Percharce 'tis so, she clutches at the stars. 
A shriek rinjafs out upon the midnight air." 



And Other Poems. 18; 

And strange foreboding lowers over all 

The vanished life so happy, full and sweet ; 

Is it her own lost spirit that doth call. 

And 'gainst the bars its white wings vainly 
beat? 

And does she dimly sense this truth at last 

In yearnings for the ghost of her dead past ? 

Perchance 'tis so ; she clutches at the stars ; 

A shriek rings out upon the midnight air: 
Her frenzied face is pressed against the bars. 

The face once tender, sentient and fair. 
She laughs aloud, — a maniac's wild refrain; 
Then like a statue stands and stares again ! 



SOEROW'S COMFOETER. 

Sweet one of the sunny heart 

Giving me of its best part ; 

How can I repay thee, dear? 

Not with sigh or not with tear ! 

Thou hast made my sorrows lighter; 

Thou hast made my life seem brighter; 

Thy reward is in the thought 

That thy presence sunshine brought; 

That thou dost to others do 

As thou'd have them do to you. 



1^8 "In the Land of Fancy" 



THE STORM. 

It was a night of troubled dreams, from sleep 

I oft awoke, awoke only to weep; 
Nor knew I why 'twas so nor could I tell 

If imagination wrought the spell. 

Through black clouds peered the blood-red moon 
A weird light scintillating from her eyes ; 

Then plunging all the world in gloom 
She sank in pall draped skies. 

'Now here and there a fading, pale-faced star 
With hectic light that on its cheek did burn, 

Did seem to breathe last words ere yet so far 
Its chances might be lost ne'er to return. 

Then moon and stars were gone ! A crash, and soon 
The lightnings rent the blackness of the skies 

And piled them up on stars and blood-red moon — 
Great jet black rocks that all the light defies ! 

The winds like sneaking wolves rushed forth 
And prowling sought through trackless ways; 

The south wind grumbling calls unto the north ; 
The north wind shrieks and suffers no delays. 



And Other Poems. 189 

With clattering sound as silver in a glass, 
The ice bound rivers her swift feet now spurn ; 

And prone the forests lie to let her pass, 
Aside for nought but God will she e'er turn. 



Yet God sits passive on His throne above 
Up, up beyond the storm-cloud's din. 

He thinks with infinite pity and with love 
Of those who seldom think of Him. 



I lie quite still with wild, dilated eyes. 

So weak a worm, so helpless in His hand, 

Whilst thunders crash and lightnings rend the 
skies. 
And flash o'er foamy sea, and sodden land. 

Lost from the fold, a poor, unsheltered lamb 
Bleats pitifully, before the storm-cloud driven. 

Whilst near it lies a tree centuries old. 

By lightning in a thousand splinters riven ! 

God's eye is on the weak lamb in the mead. 
Yet doth he rend to death the sturdy tree; 

Ah ! None so blind but "running they may read" 
The lesson in the storm, that God taught me. 



igo "In the Land of Fancy" 



FATE. 

On life's broad sea two souls tave met 
Like ships upon the mighty deep; 
One passes on, quick to forget, 
The other all its life shall weep. 
One ship unharmed the tempest braves, 
The other sinks beneath the waves. 



LIFE'S BATTLE. 

Over all the desolation of a heart in 

Sorrow's throes, 
Comes a ray, its light unbroken, 
Like a rainbow, radiant token, 
Like a flash of sunshine gleaming 

On the meadow's level snows. 

Every night must have its ending in 

A dawn of tender light ; 
There's a joy for every sorrow, 
Tears to-day and smiles to-morrow, — 
There's an answer to the prayer of him 

Who battles for the right. 



■J 



And Other Poems. 191 



m DEEAMS. 

In blissful flight, 

My soul to-night 

Doth seek the land of lost delight ; 

Where silver streams 

'Neath moonlight gleams 

There my soul drifts, and drifting, dreams. 

0, days so bright, 

0, radiant night, 

In happy isles of lost delight ; 

In hours like this, 

The dream of bliss 

In semblance brings the joys I miss. 



DESTINY. 

The blue clouds floating in the sky 
Are mirrored in the waves below; 

And so life's shadows flitting by 
Reflect in eyes of one I know. 

From sky the lake takes deeper hue, 

From life blue eyes a deeper hue. 



192 "In the Land of Fancy" 

Yet no complaint comes from the lake 
Of extra burdens it must bear 

To mar the calmness that doth make 
Its surface like a mirror fair; 

Nor doth the lips of one I know 

E'er by complaint his burdens show. 

Fitted to fill a kingly place 

With spirit grand that well might soar — 
The humbler walks his presence grace, 

Tho' craves his heart for something more ? 
E'en whilst he smiles his friend descries 
The shadows deepening in his eyes. 



MISTAKE NOT YOUR CALLING. 

Lucky he who finds his mission ; 

Trusts the hand that fain would guide; 
Humbly bending in contrition, 

Keeping close to His dear side. 

Like a ship midst millions crowding. 
Dark obstructions block the way; 

Mists of doubt the sails are shrouding, 
As they jostle, rock and sway. 



And Other Poems. 193 

There is one side never failing; 

There the channel broad and free ; 
Where serenely you'll be sailing 

Far into the infinite sea. 



Life for you is what you make it ; 

Try not others' place to gain; 
Know the path of duty, — take it, 

And the good Lord will sustain. 



WHY SHOULD WE FEAR. 

Why should we fear that which must come 

To all that breathe the breath of life ; 
Why should we grieve the laying down 

Of that which bringeth care and strife ? 
Life is at best a Summer's day 

Of smiles and frowns, sunshine and storm, 
Of blossoms bright doomed to decay. 

Of hope to disappointment born. 

All that have lived have had to meet 
That which all living yet must face ; 

And would we choose the time to greet 
This specter that draws on apace? 



194 "In the Land of Fancy " 

We know not but 'tis better far 

The babe is saved from earthly grief; 

That on dead face falls destiny's star 
Sealing the lips of life so brief. 



Nor can we say a fate more kind 

Will not bring death to youth's fair bloom ; 
But to the aged, weak and blind 

Who drag their steps towards the tomb. 
We know the grave gives rest at least 

From present care and earthly pain; 
Nor wisest man nor robed priest 

May know if life be loss or gain. 

Ah ! When we come with muffled step 

Beside the home prepared for one 
Whose sun of life on earth hath set 

And leave him sadly there alone. 
Wg know but this : our friend hath gone 

Where mortal feet hath never trod ; 
Where word from him may never come. 

Beyond, his "life is hid with God." 

None hath the right to prophesy 
The dead a future filled with pain ; 

None hath the right when mortals die 
To wish them back to earth again. 



And Other Poems. 195 

That God alone who gave us breath. 
Hath right to take it late or soon; — 

Trust him to bring us safe through death 
Unto that life beyond the tomb. 



HOPE. 



And Hope is Sorrow's child indeed. 
To soothe her grief in direst need ; 
Her face a star — a welcome light, 
That brightest shines in darkest night; 
To it pale Sorrow lifts her face 
Illumined by hope's love and grace. 



SUMMER'S SHOWERS. 

The rain did sprinkle, then streamed and splashed ; 
The lightning flitted, and flared and flashed; 
The thunder rumbled, and roared and rolled. 
The wind, it winnowed the wheat of gold. 

The clouds turned ships and sailed out of sight, 
The sun drifted down in a dazzling flight, 
The pansies lifted their lovely eyes. 
Then a rainbow rimmed the radiant skies. 



196 "In the Land of Fancy" 

THE GARDEN" BY THE SEA. 

Often I think of the time when we 
Shoveled the sand beside the sea ; 
Made a fort with walls and towers, 
Made a garden with beds for flowers; 
Round, and diamond and heart-shaped, too. 
With smooth wide walks a-running through. 

Bare-footed, poor and ragged were we, 
Building our castles beside the sea; 
Youth, and hearts all free from care, 
Made the flowerless garden fair; 
Wealth have I now, and yet, ah ! me, 
I sigh for that garden beside the sea. 



THE MIDNIGHT HOUR. 

The midnight hour I love the best, 
To me it bringeth balm and rest ; 
Like trilobite whose darkest night 
Could never quench its sense of light, — 
So this weird hour to me doth seem 
Illuminated by golden beam ; 
And thoughts like gladsome birds take wing. 
And soar aloft and sweetly sing. 



And Other Poems. 197 



SUBDUED. 

In thoughtless youth fair nature's howers 
Were filled with sweet and perfumed flowers; 
Kejoicing echoed from her hills 
And laughter rippled in her rills; 
Filled was the sky, and earth and tree, 
.With rivaling sounds of minstrelsy. 

In later years seems changed her mood. 
Her laughing waters more subdued, 
In vain the red rose flaunts her bloom 
Its heart hath lost its sweet perfume; 
Turn where I will there comes to me 
The sad plaint of humanity. 



THE PEOMISE. 

Along the woodland path I passed 
This early eve, the trees had cast 

Their last leaves to the ground ; 
And where the creek did intervene, 
I saw of ice the silver sheen. 

And silence reigned profound. 



19^ **In the Land of Fancy'* 

"The world is cold, the world is dead. 
And Autumn's gone," I sadly said. 

I turned my tear dimmed eyes 
Upon the pulseless, frozen stream 
When lo ! upon its breast the gleam 

Of rosy, sunlit skies. 

The sun had sunk — and brightest ray 
Athwart the ice-bound streamlet lay, 

A promise sweet and fair. 
That yet again should come the May, 
And on some richer, later day 

The fruit of Autumn rare. 



THE HILLS. 

0, for the hills so dear to me ; 
My heart doth yearn again to see 

Their proud heads rise. 
All glorified by sunset's glow, 
Whose molten gold doth seem to flow 

And melt into the skies. 

The boundless prairies must devise 
A subterfuge for weary eyes, 



And Other Poems. I99 

Deceitful as *tis fair. 
A city's spires, a lake, a tree. 
To break the dull monotony — 

Mirage, to melt in air. 

Mirage is this, that to my sight. 

Doth fill my thoughts, and dreams at night? 

A flying argosy. 
In which I sail till rapture thrills 
My heart again — I see the hills, 

In all their majesty ! 



DREAMS. 

0, dreams, thy artist hand hath wrought 
The fairest pictures ever made ; 
Thy life-like pictures, must they fade 
And all thy genius come to naught ? 



MUSIC. 



A siren born where ocean's roll. 
Sang her first song an angel cried, 

"This is the language of the soul" ; 
And gates of heaven were opened wide. 



500 " In the Land of Fancy " 



MUSIC NO. 2. 

A "finished world," becalmed it lay 
Through all the night. At break of day 
A song broke forth — the stars bent down 
To place upon earth's brow her crown. 



THOUGHT. 

A white winged air-balloon is thought, 
With wildest aspirations fraught, 

Which takes its flight 
Beyond the earth, beyond the stars. 
Eternity its gates unbars. 
And floating in on shoreless seas, 
Of vast and unsolved mysteries, 

'Tis lost to sight. 



YOUNG BRIDE. 

Her face is like a cloud of white 
Illumined by the pale moonlight ; 
With soul like stars a-shining through 
Her liquid eyes of azure blue. 



And Other Poems. ^oi 

As rippling wave the gentle sighs 
Up-drawn that drown the soul lit eyes; 
As summer's rains o'er sunlit space, 
A vague unrest flits o'er her face. 

The ivory hands that interlace, 
Clasp and unclasp in nervous haste; 
Upon her face the raptured pain 
That artists try to paint in vain. 

So passionate, shy and saintly sweet, 
From dreamy eyes to dainty feet; 
So pure, so lovely and so good; 
An angel clothed in womanhood. 



THE VOICE OF PEN. 

I could not sleep nor could my mind 
In thought one mite of comfort find ; 

My heart mistrusted all that brings 
To tender hearts the surest joy — 
Mistrust, which is the base alloy 

In love and friendship's offerings. 

Mistrust — it breathed within my ear 
Of "hopes deferred," and every fear 



202 "In the Land of Fancy" 

A hundred-fold did magnify; 
And 'Tiad I friend in hour of need?*' 
And was not love "a myth indeed?" 

It whispered thus, my soul to try. 

Then fell upon my burning heart 
A holy calm that soothed the smart 

Like on dry meads refreshing rain; 
A voiceless voice, the stroke of pen, 
Which ofttimes shapes the lives of men, 

And bids despair to hope again. 

In written words the voice so sweet 
Spoke to my heart the comfort meet 

To bid hope plume again her wings ; 
No more with fear my mind is fraught. 
And in my soul the voice I've caught 

That like a wild bird sweetly sings. 



THE UNATTAINABLE. 

The blessings that lift us ourselves above, 
Are the blessings we never obtain ; 

Be it fame or wealth or the boon of love, 
'Tis best that we do not gain. 

The goal once reached we're unsatisfied ; 

The blessing is sweetest that is denied. 



And Other Poems. io^ 



EANDOM THOUGHTS. 

Hope lives in every heart but lives not long; 
And joy lies stricken ere its sweetest song 
May soar aloft. We do what seemeth best. 
But half proves right, the other half is wrong. 



In dross and darkness and in sorry plight, 
The rarest gem lies hidden from the sight, 
And none its value knows till some kind hand 
Doth lift it up and hold it to the light. 



A woman passed me by with haughty frown ; 
A priceless jewel sparkled on her gown; 
Deep in the earth a brighter gem remains, 
And never may it deck a kingly crown. 



"It might have been," yet never will be so; 
Fate rules our lives and she alone may know ; 
She bids us rise then in unkinder mood 
She hurls us from the heights to plains below. 



204 " i^ the Land of Fancy " 

We venture out as ships upon the wave ; 
The wind is fair, the gentle waters lave 
Our vessel's prow. But will we reach the shore ? 
Or sink in horror to a watery grave. 



Why should we seek fair fortune's smiling face, 
Or humbly beg of fame a little place ? 
Ten thousand thousand mortals seek the same, 
And of the millions one may win the race. 



But it remains for wiser heads than mine 
To solve these mysteries of a power divine; 
And yet perhaps, the Seer who reads the stars, 
May miss the message in a lowlier shrine. 



MOTHER'S KISS. 

The purest thing this side of Heaven's bliss. 
The gold released from all alloy. 

The cure for childish ills is mother's kiss, 
The magic touch of peace, the crown of joy. 



And Other Poems. 205 



NIGHT. 

With sable robes and calm, white face, 
The gentle night draws on apace; 
With sombrous curtains drapes the skies. 
To veil the light from weary eyes ; 
And sends her zephyrs ministering 
With noiseless step and cooling wing ; 
Distills the dew that slowly drips 
To cool the lily's thirsty lips ; 
Then on her gentle, loving breast 
She folds the weary world to rest. 



SPIEIT OF SADNESS. 

Often o'er my heart it stealeth, 
Whence it comes I may not know ; 

Hushing every tone of gladness, 
Breathing whispers vague and low. 

And I know not why this spirit 
Hath the power my soul to win; 

I only know that it receives it. 
Bids the dark guest enter in. 



2o6 "In the Land of Fancy" 

And when it hath crossed the portal 
Of my soul it holdeth sway; 

Hanging dim and somber curtains 
Shutting out the light of day. 

Hope doth bow her head in silence, 
Joy doth flee in wild affright, 

Till the spirit slowly rising, 
Leaves my soul and wings its flight. 



THE SUMMER'S DAYS ARE ENDED. 

'Tis creeping o'er the meadows, 

Wliere'er I turn my eye 
I see its flaming banners 

Proclaim it to the sky 
That Summer's days are ended 

And Winter's gloom is nigh. 

'Tis written in the forest 

In hectic flush of leaves, 
That are all swiftly dying 

And dropping from the trees; 
A million bright lives ended 

With every passing breeze. 



And Other Poems. 207 

I see it in my garden. 

The roses are all gone, 
The lily and carnations 

As silently have flown ; 
The humming-bird and bee 

Have followed;, I'm alone ! 

The Summer's days are ended. 

Unconsciously I sigh, 
In thoughts of golden hours 

That sped so swiftly by. 
And of the radiant roses 

And the sunny azure sky. 

A spendthrift of the moments 

So filled with joy complete ; 
I drank of crystal fountains 

O'er-brimmed with nectar sweet ; 
I tossed the brightest flowers 

To perish 'neath my feet. 

'Tis ended ! Ah, I know it ! 

I turn in sore distress 
To pluck my last, frail blossom 

To place it on my breast — 
Too eager hand hath shattered — 

'Tis dead, like all the rest ! 



2o8 "In the Land of Fancy" 

The leaden skies are frowning, 
And bleak winds rushing by. 

As turning from my garden 
With heavy heart I sigh ; 

I know life's Summer's ended, 
And Winter's gloom is nigh. 



THE OLD YEAR. 

Leave me, for I would watch alone ! 

The old year is my friend ; 
No 'Other one so true I've known. 

So steadfast to the end. 
I've tried them all since long ago, 
To disappointment, treachery, woe, 
They each and all did trend — 
Leave us alone; 

None loves him more, 
And ah ! He knows ! 
Old year, before 
Thine eyes thou close 
0, let me whisper in thine ear. 

And beg, when thou depart 
To take me too, "me too," old year, 
0, fold me to thy heart. 



And Other Poems. 209 

And silently across the snow 

While glad bells wildly ring, 
Thy soul and mine will swiftly go — 

The glad New Year may bring 
To other hearts of joy or pain, 

Of friendship false or true, 
But I — I would try none again. 

But die, old year, with you. 



A THOUGHT. 

Watching the birds that southward fly, 
Out of a cold and wintry sky; 
Into a land where skies are blue. 
Filled with bloom of a summer new — 
I wonder if I some time, as they. 
From my wintry life may drift away, 
Out of the cold and out of the gloom, 
Into a land o.f summer's bloom. 



?rHE ENU. 



